


A New Era at Baker Street

by AbsRuthSJML



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fake Relationship, For a case, M/M, Post Season Four, under cover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:54:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 44,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25985479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AbsRuthSJML/pseuds/AbsRuthSJML
Summary: Emma Louise Parker moved to London to begin the next chapter in her life, and to attend the University of London. When she was walking home from her classes, one autumn day, a little girl ran into her, and her life changed for ever. The man who had been like a Father to her was back in her life and things were looking up. That is until a lecturer at her University was revealed to be involved in a sex ring and Emma, and her friends, became under threat... Can Sherlock Holmes save the day, once again? And what will be the price?
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/OC
Comments: 6
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1

Emma sighed as her alarm blared on her bedside table. She had a lecture at half 10 and needed to get up so that she could get there in time, but her body was not playing ball.

“Emma! You’ve got 10 minutes to be dressed and out of the house or I am going to come in there and throw water over you.”, her housemate and good friend, Jen, shouted through to her.

It was only October, and Emma had started studying English at University in London and was already struggling keeping up with rent of her room in a shared student house. She knew it would be pricey to live in London when she decided to move there, from Manchester, but she loved the city and wanted to live there permanently.

“Right! I’m up. I’m up.”, Emma shouted back to Jen, before throwing the covers off.

She took a speedy shower, got dressed, picked up her bag, which she had packed the night before, and ate her toast (which Jen had made for her) on the way to the tube station. She took the short journey on the tube, her headphones in her ears and her head down, as usual, before getting to the University College of London campus, just in time for her lecture. She was studying detectives and detective story tropes and she loved it. Agatha Christie had always been one of her favourite authors so getting to study Poirot in detail was engaging. Once her lecture was finished, she grabbed lunch with a few of the people from her course (as they did most days) and then went back home to begin the preparation work and reading for her lectures the next day. The weather was nice enough, so she decided to walk. She walked, with her head down, and her headphones in, listening to her musicals playlist, which always made her happy. As she headed through the park, she was abruptly knocked into by a small child, causing her to stop.

“My goodness… I am so sorry, sweetie. Are you okay?”, Emma asked the little girl, as she pulled her earphones out of her ears and helped the little girl up of the floor.

“I’m okay. Sorry.”, the little girl told her.

“It’s okay. It was my fault. I should have been looking where I was going.”, Emma said, with a small smile.

“Rosie!”, Emma heard, before looking up to find a man running towards them. “What have I told you about running off?”

“No way… I can’t believe it.”, Emma smiled.

John looked up from his daughter to the young woman and looked shocked.

“Uncle John. Long-time no see.”, Emma grinned.

“You can’t be my little Emma.”, John let out, with a huge smile, pulling the girl into a hug.

“What can I say? I grew up.”, Emma said.

“Yes, you did. How are you? What are you doing in London? How is Kate?”, John asked.

“I’m good thanks. I’m in London for Uni. And Mum is just fine. You always were her favourite cousin.”, Emma replied.

“Where are you living?”, John asked his second cousin, who he had been immensely close to before he’d left for the war.

“About 20 minutes from here. It’s student accommodation. I am paying the earth for the smallest room. I have been looking for somewhere else.”, Emma explained.

“I may have a solution for that…”, John smiled, picking up his daughter, and holding her on his hip.

“Honestly, Uncle John, I am not looking for charity…”, Emma told him, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“I wasn’t thinking that… It’s just, well, we own a flat, my friend and I. We bought it off the landlady. It’s downstairs from our own. You could live there rent free. All of the electric and everything is paid for with ours. And I would love to catch up and see more of you. You could have friends around and we wouldn’t bother you.”, John told her.

“And I guess it wouldn’t be too bad having a babysitter on hand, yes?”, Emma chuckled a little, bopping Rosie on the nose, and causing her to smile.  
“Well…”, John chuckled too.

“I mean, I’ll have to sort a few things, obviously. But that really would be great. Mum will be overjoyed.”, Emma told John, grinning.

A week later, Emma was moving into 221C Baker Street, with the few possessions she had, after promising Jen that she would not lose touch, and that she can stay over whenever the rest of the house is doing her head in. Emma’s mother, John’s cousin, was beyond excited that her little girl was going to be looked after, despite the fact she was 19, going on 20. John helped her move in, taking the opportunity to chat and catch up with his cousin, whilst his daughter was at nursery and his friend was out running errands.

“Thank you for everything, Uncle John. It, er, means a lot to know I don’t have to worry about money.”, Emma smiled.

“Honestly, Em, it’s my pleasure. Now, please, don’t be alarmed by my friend. He’s, er, well… You’ll find out. But he means well.”, John warned her.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine. Nothing I can’t handle.”, Emma replied. “I have emailed my lecture and study timetable to you, just so you know when I am free to watch Rosie, by the way. I will be able to keep an ear out, during my study sessions, if she’s asleep but other than that… Well, you know what it’s like. I have to make mum proud.”

“I understand that.”, John smiled. “Anyway, how about you join us for dinner? We’re just having take-out, but Rosie would love to see you again. She can’t stop talking about you.”

“That would be great. I don’t exactly have any food in. And it means I get the chance to meet the great Sherlock Holmes.”, Emma grinned.

“You knew?”, John asked, shocked. He hadn’t mentioned Sherlock by name.

“Of course, I knew. Mum always reads your blog. ‘That’s my little cousin’ she tells people.”, Emma smiled, the thought of her Mum making her heart feel warm.

“Look, Em… I am so sorry I didn’t get in contact when I got back from the war. I was, well, I…”, John started.

“It’s okay. You don’t need to explain. I get it.”, she replied, understanding how hard it was for her Mum’s cousin. He had always been an adrenaline junkie. He would always play with Emma… Chasing her and running and playing with a football or a frisbee.

John smiled a little, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Well, I will leave you to it. Come upstairs for 6ish?”

“Sure.”, Emma smiled.

John then left Emma in her new flat and, all of sudden, she felt small. The space wasn’t huge but seemed a lot bigger than it was. She wasn’t used to having so much space to herself. There was a living area, a kitchen, a bathroom, a master bedroom and a guest bedroom. The guest bedroom fit a double bed and a wardrobe in it but little else, really. The main bedroom was bigger, and also consisted of a dressing table as well as a King-sized bed, large wardrobe and a set of drawers. The bathroom consisted of a bath with a shower attachment, a toilet and a sink (which had a cupboard over it). It was definitely the smallest room in the flat. The living area had a sofa, an armchair, a desk and a desk chair (which were situated under a window that looked out onto the street) and a bookshelf. There was a large, stand-alone lamp in the corner of the room. There was a television mounted to the wall. The wifi router was sat on the coffee table, which was against the wall opposite the window, next to the armchair. The sofa sat against the wall opposite the television. The hallway, where the door to the flat was situated, was small. Its only purpose being to join the rooms. The kitchen wasn’t small, but it wasn’t exactly large either. It had a fridge-freezer, a cooker, a kettle, a microwave and a coffee machine, as well as enough cupboard space and a window, above the sink, which looked out over the back alley, where the bins were kept and a few stray cats lingered. Emma was glad that each room had, at least, a small window, if not a larger one. She had always liked having natural light.

Emma stuck up pictures and posters and pride flags (gay and bisexual ones) all over. It was like her room had been in her student house and at home. She smiled when she placed a picture of her, her mum and her Uncle John on the top of the bookshelf in the living room. All three of them grinning. John had his arm around his older cousin’s shoulder, and Emma was in his other arm, resting on his hip. It had been taken on the last day they saw him, before he went off to war. Emma also made sure to place all of her little trinkets that she had around the flat, smiling as she placed her engagement ring, which she had in a frame, along with the date she had been asked, and the day she had died, in pride of place. She would always miss her. But she knew she had to move on. It was what she would have wanted.

After unpacking her clothes into her wardrobe and placing everything she had in a place she saw fit, she decided a cup of tea was in order. However, realising she didn’t have any milk in, she grabbed her phone, keys and purse and pulled on a jacket. There was a Tesco express a few streets away, John had told her, so she left her flat and went out of the front door, onto the street, and made her way there, for a few things she would need until she could a proper grocery shop. She picked up some snacks, which she liked to have when doing her university work, some milk, some sugar, some tea bags, some instant coffee (until she could figure out what to put in the coffee machine in her flat) and some other bits and pieces that she would need, like bread, eggs, cheese and ham. She then walked back to the flat quickly, as it looked as though it was going to rain, and managed to get into her kitchen, just as the downpour began. She placed the carrier bag of stuff on the work surface of her kitchen, before pulling her jacket off and putting it away, on the hook in the hall. She then took her shoes off and pulled on her comfy slippers, before putting the dry goods away. She then opened the fridge, to put the milk, cheese, ham and other bits away, and screamed. In the fridge, she found a foot in a jar, just sat on the middle shelf. She grabbed it and stormed out her flat and raced up the stairs to 221B.

“Uncle John? Why the hell is there foot in a jar in my bloody fridge?”, Emma shouted, as she stormed into the living room of the flat. John wasn’t there but soon appeared, at the bottom of the stairs to his room, with a questioning look on his face.

“Em? Are you okay?”, he asked.

“I found this in my fridge.”, she told him, holding out the offending article for John to see. John sighed and shook his head.

“Sherlock! Get out here…”, he shouted. A moment later, he appeared, wearing a dress shirt and proper trousers, accompanied by a blue, silky dressing gown.

“Ah, you must be Emma.”, Sherlock smiled a little, before seeing what the young woman was holding. “Oh… I forgot about that…”

“I told you, Sherlock, to remove anything like that from downstairs so Emma wouldn’t get the shock of her life when she moved in.”, John told the man.

“I apologise but I got side-tracked…”, Sherlock said.

“Side-tracked?”, Emma asked.

“Yes, I had a case… You don’t read your second cousin’s blog as religiously as your mother, it would seem.”, Sherlock replied. He wasn’t smiling but his eyes were kind. Emma was not expecting the man to be so kind to her.

“Erm, well, here… You can have it back.”, Emma told the detective, handing it over. “Please don’t keep anything else, of that nature, in my fridge. If you do, I’ll put it in your bed when you’re out.”

“That’s not exactly going to surprise me. You’ve told me you’re going to do it now.”, Sherlock said, grinning a little.

"Sherlock…”, John warned, not needing to say anything else. His eyes said the rest. That was a bit not good.

“Apologies.”, Sherlock said, nodding slightly, before stalking back into his bedroom and closing the door.

“Sorry about that, Em… You’re lucky though. He isn’t usually that nice. He’s been better since…”, John started, before stopping himself. “Well, that’s a story for another day.”, he said, smiling slightly.

“It’s okay… I mean, I got a fright, but no harm done. I’ll, uh… I have some university work to do this afternoon. I’ll see you later.”, Emma told John, before giving him a smile and going back downstairs to her flat.


	2. Chapter 2

As Emma, finally, made herself a cup of tea, she replayed what had just happened in her head. She knew Sherlock Holmes was some kind of mad genius, but a foot in a jar? She wasn’t sure what that was a for. An experiment, she supposed, as she put sugar in her tea. She put everything she had used away and then placed the tea on her desk, in the living room. She then went to her bedroom, collecting her laptop, notebook and other books she needed, before settling down to get some work done. She had put some music on, through Spotify on her television, and drank her tea and she went through one book, highlighting and making notes. Realising she was only a few tube stops away from her campus, due to her move, she smiled a little. She was grateful that she could get those extra, few precious minutes in bed, in a morning. A lie in was every student’s dream.

After an hour of doing work, there was a knock on the door to her flat, which confused her a little, but she went to answer it, anyway. When she opened the door, she was surprised to find Sherlock stood there.

“Uh, hi… What can I do for you?”, she asked him.

“Can I come in?”, he asked, in reply.

“Uh, sure…”, she said, letting him in. She shut the door and turned to find that he had already disappeared from the hallway. She found him in the living room, sat on the chair at her desk, looking at the work she had been doing.

“Well?”

“Oh, yes… This is good work, by the way, Em. Can I call you Em?”, he asked, avoiding the subject.

“Yes, you can. But, er, to what do I owe the pleasure, Mr Holmes?”, Emma questioned, leaning against the doorframe of the living room door.

“Sherlock, please… And, well, I wanted to apologise for earlier.”, he told her, looking a little sheepish.

“Look, honestly, it’s fine. You don’t have to apologise because Uncle John has made you.”, she replied, with a smile.

“In fact, John doesn’t know I’m here. I came here of my own volition. Can I be so bold as to ask… Why do you call him Uncle John?”, Sherlock asked, moving from the desk to sit on the sofa, as Emma sat in the armchair, with her legs tucked underneath her.

“Well, it was just one of those things. He’s my Mum’s cousin, making him my second cousin. And I used to see him all of the time, before he went off to war. I guess it’s because of the age difference. I was 5 when he left for Afghanistan, and then we moved to Manchester. I haven’t seen him since. We spoke on the phone, a couple of times, in the first few years, but then it went quiet. We got invited to the wedding, of course, but couldn’t get here. We couldn’t afford it.”, Emma explained.

“You moved to Manchester because your Father died? Is that right?”, Sherlock asked, despite knowing he was right.

“Yes. It was cancer. It was found too late, though. He was dead within a month of being diagnosed.”, Emma replied. “But then he was never really a Father anyway. He used to hit my Mum. He was an alcoholic. Uncle John was the Father figure in my life.”

“That must be why John hated the way Harry became an alcoholic…”, Sherlock muttered.

“Yeah. I guess. My Mum was always closer with Uncle John, though. I don’t remember ever meeting my Auntie Harry properly, although I am sure I must have.”, Emma told him, as the pair sat not talking, the music still playing quietly from her television.

“You were engaged?”, Sherlock asked her, wincing, like he expected her to get upset.

“Yeah. She died.”, Emma said, smiling.

“What happened? If you don’t mind me asking…”, Sherlock asked.

“Can’t you deduce it?”, Emma questioned, but there was no malice.

“I could but I have been often told that it’s better to let people tell me things themselves.”, Sherlock smiled a little.

“Yes, well, er… She was two years older than me, but we’d known each other for years. We got together when I was 14 and we both knew it was forever. She proposed when I left school. She was 18 and I was 16. She went out with some friends one night and I couldn’t go because I wasn’t old enough yet. She was drunk. She got behind the wheel of her friend’s car, because she was the least drunk out of all of them, to drive them home. Someone pulled out, who she hadn’t seen, and went straight into the driver’s side of the car. She got to the hospital. We said our goodbyes. But she died a few days later.”, Emma explained.

“So, you’re a lesbian?”

“No… I’m bisexual.”, Emma told him, glad he was asking instead of assuming like everyone else did.

“I’m sorry… Does John know?”, Sherlock said, gesturing to the frame that held her ring.

“It’s okay. We were too young, anyway, as her mother always said to us. And it was three years ago. I haven’t dated anyone since, but I’ve healed. And, no… Uncle John doesn’t know. But, I’ll wait for him to see and ask, if that’s okay?”, Emma told him, kind of surprised at how easy she was finding it to open up to the man who was known for being difficult.

Sherlock nodded, and stared at the ring. Emma looked at Sherlock’s eyes and it immediately clicked in her brain. “You love my Uncle John, don’t you?”

“I, um, of course, he’s my best friend.”, Sherlock replied, turning red.

“That’s not what I mean, and you know it.”, Emma smiled a little.

“Yes, well, I had better be getting back.”, Sherlock said, quickly, standing up and heading towards the hallway.

“Sherlock… It’s okay, you know.”, Emma told him, causing him to stop for a second. He then gave the tiniest of nods before he left the flat. Emma laughed a little and then got back to her work.

At around 6pm, she shut the curtains to her living room, turned her television off and just left the corner lamp on before leaving her flat and heading upstairs to 221B. When she got there, the living room door was open, so she just entered it quietly. Rosie was sat in the middle of the floor, in front of the fireplace, with a colouring book and coloured pens laid out all around her. John was nowhere to be seen and Sherlock was laid on the sofa, with his hands steepled under his chin.

Rosie was the first to notice the presence of the young woman.

“Emma!”, Rosie grinned, throwing herself into the arms of the young woman, for a big hug.

“Hey, bambino. How are you?”, Emma asked, hugging her back.

“I’m good. I’ve been colouring.”, Rosie announced proudly, as Emma set the little girl back on the floor.

“And Papa is in his mind palace.”

“Papa?”, Emma questioned, looking confused. She knew that she called John Dad or Daddy. Rosie didn’t reply, she just pointed to Sherlock, who was very much still unaware of her presence. “Oh…”, Emma smiled, nodding.

“Where’s your Dad?”

“Just in here, Em. I’ll be out in a sec.”, she heard from the bathroom.

“Okay.”, Emma replied. “Can I colour with you, Rosie?”, she asked the little girl.

“Yes, yes, yes, please, Emma!”, Rosie grinned, pulling on Emma’s hand. Emma allowed herself to be pulled to the floor and the proceeded in helping Rosie to colour in a picture of Anna and Elsa from Frozen. After a few minutes of colouring, John appeared, smiling, and sitting in his armchair. He didn’t seem fazed to see his flatmate lay on the sofa, unresponsive.

“Sorry about that, Em… We had an accident during toilet training, and I was just cleaning up.”, John explained.

“So… Rosie calls Sherlock Papa?”, Emma asked, raising one eyebrow and grinning.

“Don’t even Em…”, John said, chuckling a little bit. “That was Mrs Hudson’s doing.”

“When will I meet the infamous Mrs H?”, Emma asked.

“She comes back from her sister’s the day after tomorrow, so then, I guess. She’ll love you.”, John told her.

“John! It was the sister!”, Sherlock shouted, suddenly sitting up and grabbing his phone off the coffee table, to send a text to Dimmock.

“Case?”, Emma asked.

“What else?”, John replied, with a smile.

“Anyway, Sherlock, now you’re back in the land of the living, what are we having for dinner?”

“Takeout, yes? Italian or Thai, as Rosie will eat those. I am not arguing with her if you decide you want Chinese.”, Sherlock replied, not looking up from his phone.

“Which do you prefer, Em?”, John asked, not fazed by Sherlock’s answer, in any way. He didn’t want to argue with his three-year-old daughter about eating Chinese, either. That argument was one that went down in history.

“I’ll eat anything.”, Emma smiled.

“Nothing has changed.”, John smiled at his young cousin. “I say Italian. Rosie likes the pasta from Angelo’s… Let’s get it from Angelo’s. Carbonara still your favourite, Em?”

“Yep. Surprised you remember that.”

“You went a week, giving your Mum hell, when you were 4, when all you would eat was Carbonara. But it had to be Gran’s Carbonara. So, she made a load and your Mum froze it. I’m surprised there isn’t any left, not going to lie. It was like she was trying to feed my regiment.”, John grinned, reminiscing and allowing himself to think about his past for once. Sherlock smiled a little, liking how he was finding out these little titbits about John’s life, before they met, but he still looked down at his phone, tapping at it wildly.

“Papa? Did you get the bad man again?”, Rosie asked, toddling over to Sherlock, and pulling herself onto his lap. Sherlock helped her up, and put his phone down, pulling Rosie closer to his chest.

“It was a bad lady this time, Rosie-bear.”, he smiled, bopping her nose. John and Emma watched on with a smile.

“So, your usual from Angelo’s, Sherlock?”, John asked, standing up, so he could fetch his phone from the kitchen.

“Not hungry.”, Sherlock replied.

“I’ll get you your usual then.”, John replied.

Emma watched as Sherlock whispered things to Rosie, who giggled and whispered things back, with a smile. She had never had a proper Dad and that little girl was lucky enough to get two, although she knew Rosie’s mother had died and she didn’t know what she’d do without her mum. John saw the look in his cousin’s eye and knew she was thinking of her Father. He had despised the man. He didn’t say anything to her. Once he had ordered the food, he simply placed a hand on her shoulder and squoze slightly. She looked up at him and smiled slightly, nodding a little in thanks.

“Don’t tell Daddy.”, they heard Sherlock say.

“Don’t tell Daddy what?”, John asked, sitting back down in his armchair.

“Papa said I can’t say, Daddy.”, Rosie grinned, folding her arms across her chest. She was already, aged three, incredibly sassy.

“Very well, but I will find out eventually, my little bee.”, John told his daughter, causing her to giggle and hide her face in Sherlock’s chest. Emma smiled further.

“Ah, domestic bliss…”, A voice said. Sherlock rolled his eyes, as Emma looked to the door to find a well-dressed man stood in the doorway, with an umbrella in one hand and a pocket watch dangling from his waistcoat.

“Uncle Mycroft!”, Rosie beamed, jumping down from her Papa’s lap and hugging his brother at the knees. Mycroft didn’t seem to know what to do but he patted the little girl’s head and smiled anyway.

“Hello, my Rose.”, he said to the little girl. It was clear that he was not used to such contact with a small human but that he was trying, all the same.

“I’m guessing living with our favourite Detective Inspector is going well, then, Mycroft. You’ve put on 5 pounds.”, Sherlock grinned at his brother, but there was no malice in it like there would have been in the past.

“3 and a half.”

“Erm, definitely 5.”

“Anyway, Mycroft… To what do we owe the pleasure. Our food will be arriving soon.”, John asked.

“Just a post-work social pop in.”, Mycroft smiled, taking a seat on the sofa next to his brother, pulling Rosie onto his knee wordlessly.

“So, Greg is on-call tonight then.”, John smiled. It had become a common occurrence to find Mycroft popping in to see his brother, when his partner was working nights.

“Indeed.”, Mycroft nodded. He then looked to Emma, who had moved to sit on Sherlock’s armchair. “I’m sorry. I’m Mycroft Holmes… You must be Emma Parker.”, Mycroft smiled.

“Wait, Parker? You go by your Mum’s maiden name?”, John asked, looking shocked.

“Yeah. Didn’t want to be associated with… Well, that.”, Emma replied. “And it’s a pleasure to meet you, Mycroft. You’re the big brother, I presume?”

“I am. And you study English, yes? At UCL?”, Mycroft asked.

“I do. I’m lucky enough to have bumped into Uncle John though. The student house I was in was not ideal.”, Emma replied.

“They rarely are.”, Mycroft smiled. Being in a relationship had tamed him, somewhat, and he immediately knew he was going to like Emma Parker.

“I have a secret from Papa, Uncle Mycroft.”, Rosie announced, clearly not happy that the attention wasn’t on her.

“Oh, you do, my Rose? Do tell…”, Mycroft smiled down at the girl.

“I can’t.”, Rosie replied.

“I have my ways, my Rose, and I will tickle you until you tell me.”, Mycroft warned, jokingly.

“No, no, no!”, Rosie giggled, jumping off his knee and running to her Dad.

“Very well…”, Mycroft smiled.

As much as he denied it, he had a soft spot for the young Watson.

As John spoke to his daughter, quietly, Mycroft shot Sherlock a look, and Sherlock shook his head slightly, which didn’t go unnoticed by Emma, but she didn’t say anything.

“You have been doing some colouring with Emma, Rosie?”, Mycroft asked the little girl.

“Yes. My Frozen book.”, Rosie smiled.

“I’m not even going to pretend to know what that is.”, Mycroft told his brother.

“It’s a Disney film, Mycroft.”, Sherlock explained. “One that I would happily throw all copies of into a blackhole.”

“I love that film…”, Emma protested.

“You would.”, Sherlock smiled, but there was no malice present.

“Hey, Rosie… How about we sing Let It Go at the tops of our voices to annoy Papa and Uncle Mycroft.”, Emma asked the little girl, with a mischievous glint in her eye, which made John laugh and Sherlock groan in despair.

“Yes, please!”, Rosie grinned, jumping up and twirling as the pair began to sing.

“LET IT GO! LET IT GO! CAN’T HOLD IT BACK ANYMORE! LET IT GO! LET IT GO! TURN AWAY AND SLAM THE DOOR!” Rosie was clinging to Emma as they danced around. John was merely watching on and laughing.

Mycroft seemed amused by the situation. But Sherlock was groaning and putting his hands over his ears.

They stopped singing when the doorbell went, signifying their food had arrived.

“You know, Em, if you didn’t sing such god-awful songs then you’d be good at singing.”, Sherlock told her, as John got the food and Mycroft left the family to eat in peace.

“I am going to say thank you because I know compliments aren’t an easy thing for you and that is the closest I’m going to get to one.”, Emma smiled, before patting Sherlock on the head and picking Rosie up so she could put her in her high chair. It was then that John appeared with the food.

They all sat around the table, and their meals were passed around and they all tucked in. Emma thoroughly enjoyed her carbonara and watched on in silence as Sherlock pushed his food around his plate a little, before getting a look off John, which made him sigh and start to eat properly. Rosie babbled in between mouthfuls of spaghetti, her face becoming covered with tomato sauce, and Emma told John about the work she had been doing that day. Emma had forgotten what it was like to sit around a table and eat a proper meal. With it just being her and her mum, she rarely got the chance to growing up, only doing so when she was with relatives. It felt nice to be accepted into her cousin’s little family so quickly and so willingly. It was an unconventional family, but it was just right. Once they had all eaten, John took Rosie for her bath, and Sherlock took out his laptop and began typing on it really fast. Emma said her goodnights, once Rosie was ready for bed, and then went downstairs to her own flat, and got into her pyjamas. It was only around 8 in the evening, so she then snuggled onto the sofa, in her biggest, fluffiest blanket, and turned on Netflix, watching a few episodes of Doctor Who, setting her alarm so she could do a proper grocery shop the next day. Emma fell asleep immediately, which later confused her, due to her usual insomnia, until she realised that she didn’t have Jack (one of her old housemates) playing dance music at all hours of the night.


	3. Chapter 3

“I need to go and see Lestrade, John, and I really need you there.”, Emma heard Sherlock say, as she left her flat that next, quiet morning. It was a Sunday, so she was confused as to why Sherlock was so eager to see his police officer friend. Although, she guessed that murderers didn’t adhere to the courtesy of having Sunday as the day of rest.

“And Molly is working, and Mrs H is still away, so someone has to look after Rosie.”, John replied.

“Erm… Sorry to bother you.”, Emma said, having climbed the stairs to 221B. “But, er, I could take Rosie with me. I have some shopping to do, and I promised I’d meet Jen for a coffee, but I am sure she won’t mind if Rosie is there. She is doing a child-care degree, after all.”

“No, Em… You’ve barely been here for 24 hours. We can’t have you looking after Rosie already.”, John said.

“I really don’t mind. It’ll be nice to have some company.”, Emma insisted. John let out a sigh, as Sherlock looked at John hopefully.

“Fine. But we will be home in time for dinner tonight.”, John said.

"Okay. Come on, Rosie… Is there anything I need?”, Emma asked. Sherlock handed her a bag and John put Rosie into some baby reins. They said their goodbyes and thanks then the pair left the flat, leaving Emma with Rosie.

“Okay, Bambino… Us two today. Dad and Papa have a case with Uncle Greg. So, we’ll go and meet my friend, Jen, and then we can go shopping. If you’re good, you can have some sweeties, how does sound?”, Emma asked Rosie.

“Great!”, Rosie beamed, clapping.

“Well, I guess that is that, then.”, Emma smiled. She sent Jen a quick text, to explain that she had Rosie with her, and then the two set off to Starbucks, where they were meeting Jen.

  
On the way there, Rosie held Emma’s hand, as well as Emma having hold of her reins. She didn’t say anything, but she sang the alphabet as she bounced alongside Emma, making her smile a little. When they got to Starbucks, Jen wasn’t there yet, so Emma ordered coffees for her and Jen and got Rosie an orange juice, and then settled at a table by the window, where Jen would see her. In Rosie’s bag, she found her colouring, so occupied her with that, and watched as she stuck her tongue out in concentration.

When Jen arrived, she saw them immediately, and joined them at the table.

“Hiya… Sorry I am late. Had an argument with Jack before I left the house about washing up.”, Jen said, as she picked up her coffee. “Thanks for this, by the way.”, she added, before taking a sip.

“You’re welcome. And I am not even going to pretend to be interested in Jack. He is unbelievable.”, Emma smiled.

Rosie had stopped colouring, but was holding onto her pen still, as she looked at Jen warily. Jen smiled at Rosie, and then she smiled back, and went back to her colouring, clearly satisfied that Jen was to be trusted.

“So, how’s your new place? I am beyond jealous that you managed to wangle that one…”, Jen smiled.

“It’s perfect. I have a story about a foot in a jar, but I’ll tell you that one when there aren’t little ears and I can swear.”, Emma giggled.

“A foot in a jar?”, Jen exclaimed, pulling a face. “I guess that is what you get for living in the flat beneath the great Sherlock Holmes.”

“My Papa is a detective.”, Rosie smiled, telling Jen.

“She calls Sherlock Papa.”, Emma added, to avoid confusion.

“Are your Uncle John and Sherlock together then?”, Jen asked.

“If only. No, though. She just calls him Papa because they raise her together. Plus, I think Mrs H is trying to do some matchmaking.”, Emma explained.

"Emma, I need a wee.”, Rosie announced, putting her pen down.

“Come on, then…”, Emma said, taking Rosie’s hand. “Won’t be a minute, Jen.”

“No rush.”, Jen smiled, before she watched her friend take her little, distant cousin off to the toilet. Once the two Baker Street girls were back, Rosie sat on Emma’s knee, whilst she caught up on all of the gossip with Jen.

“So, we are having a house night out on Friday… You down?”, Jen asked.

“Of course. We can all do pre drinks at mine. I’m closer to the centre of town, where the best bars are.”, Emma grinned.

“Oh. My. God. Yes! That’ll be soooo amazing. Are you sure your Uncle John and Sherlock won’t mind the noise?”, Jen asked.

“We’re not THAT loud. And besides, I babysit this one whenever they want. A bit of noise won’t hurt. And you can stay over at mine in my spare room. Just no bringing home strays… Not unless you want Sherlock to deduce the crap out of the pair of you the morning after.”, Emma laughed.

“That actually might be some good post piss up entertainment.”, Jen smiled, chuckling a little.

“You have no idea, apparently. I haven’t actually seen it yet, but Uncle John has some stories.”, Emma commented.

“Will you be coming out for Halloween the Wednesday after, too?”, Jen asked.

“I’ll have to see. Depends on what happens Friday and if Sherlock and Uncle John are out doing their thing, then I’ll have Rosie. Plus, I have a lecture first thing on a Thursday, with Richard. It’s hard enough to stay awake in his lectures fully sober, let alone with a hangover.”, Emma replied, knowing she most definitely would not end up going out for Halloween.

“Fair enough, hun, but I’d love it if you could come.”, Jen smiled.

“We’ll see.”, Emma replied, simply.

  
The trio weren’t in the café chain for much longer, before Jen had to go and pick up her dry cleaning and Emma took Rosie to the supermarket so she could do some shopping. Rosie was quiet, as Emma placed her in the baby seat of the trolley, and began walking around the store, putting things into the trolley as she came across them. When she got to the snack aisle, she added way too much into the trolley, letting Rosie pick a packet of sweets, for being as good as gold.

“Okay, bambino… Which sweets would you like?”, Emma asked the young girl.

“I would like Sherbet Lemons.”, she replied.

“Really? You’re sure?”, Emma questioned.

“Yes. Because Papa and Uncle Myc don’t like them.”, Rosie smiled.

“Ah, good tactic. It means they can’t steal them, yeah?”, Emma chuckled, picking up some Sherbet Lemons and placing them in her trolley.

“Yep.”, the little girl smiled.

Emma got a text through, apologising, but John and Sherlock were not going to be back for dinner, so it meant she would have to feed Rosie. Emma sighed a little but was smiling.

“Well, bambino… You’re having dinner with me. Dada and Papa won’t be back in time. Is home-cooked chicken and potatoes with veg okay?”, Emma asked.

“I like chicken.”, Rosie grinned.

“Chicken it is.”

  
When they got back to Baker Street, Emma took Rosie into her flat with her, putting her in front of the television, occupying her with Moana, whilst she put away the shopping she had just bought and grabbed each of them a sandwich, packet of crisps and a drink. She then sat and watched the film with Rosie, recording Rosie jumping around the room and singing along to How Far I’ll Go, to send to her Uncle John, just as a little pick me up during the case. It was another Disney film she really enjoyed, especially as the music had been written by Lin-Manuel Miranda (the man behind Hamilton – one of her favourite musicals).  
Once the film had finished, and the lunch time plates had been cleared away, Rosie began to get a bit restless.

“Can you teach me something, Emma? That’s what Papa does.”, Rosie asked.

“Sure, I can teach you something…”, Emma smiled, trying to rack her brains for something she could teach the girl that Sherlock wouldn’t have thought to. “How about we learn all the Kings and Queens of England?”, Emma asked.

“Yes, I would like that.”, Rosie grinned.

“We can do it by song.”, Emma said, pulling up Youtube on her TV, and finding the right Horrible Histories song, to teach Rosie the Kings and Queens. After two hours, and the song being repeated way too many times to count, Rosie could happily reel off all of the Kings and Queens without any prompting. It seemed the little girl thoroughly enjoyed learning and being taught new things.

“Are you ready, bambino?”, Emma asked her, as they were about to sing the song one last time before watching another film.

“Yep.”, Rosie smiled, jumping up and down a little.

Together, they began singing… “William, William, Henry, Steven, Henry, Richard, John, ey! Henry, Ed, Ed, Ed, Rich II, then 3 more Henry’s join our song. Edward. Edward. Rich the III. Henry, Henry, Ed again. Mary I. Good Queen Bess. Jimmy, Charles and Charles and then… Jim, Will/Mary, Anne of Gloria. George. George. George. George. Will. Victoria. Edward, George, Edward, George VI. And Queen Liz II completes the mix! That’s all the English Kings and Queens, since William I, that there have been!”

  
Rosie giggled like a mad woman, before jumping up onto the sofa and settling in. She then chose to watch Mary Poppins. Emma then finished a bit of University work, at the desk in the living room, keeping an eye on Rosie as she did. Rosie, however, was no fuss. She simply sat, engrossed in the film that was playing. Time to start prepping dinner came soon after, so Emma began to cook, and Rosie stayed watching the film. Once the food was ready, they ate, as they watched the end of the film together. Emma had also had to go up to 221B to get Rosie’s high chair, and made a mental note to ask her Uncle John about getting a cheap one to leave at her flat for when the need arose, rather than having to drag her one from upstairs up and down the stairs each time it was needed.

  
It wasn’t long after Emma had finished cleaning the kitchen and putting everything away after dinner, that there was a knock on the door.  
“It’s open!”, Emma shouted, and she heard Sherlock and her Uncle John come in. She was sat in her armchair, reading, and Rosie was colouring, whilst Peppa Pig played in the background. The pair came straight into the living room, both smiling.

“Daddy! Papa!”, Rosie beamed, jumping up and launching herself at the two men. They both caught hold of her, smiling.

“Hello, little bee. Have you had a good day?”, John asked.

“Yes, I learned all the Kings and Queens of England.”, Rosie beamed.

“Really?”, John asked, smiling, but also looking to Emma.

“She said she wanted to learn something…”, Emma replied, shrugging a little and smiling, placing her bookmark in her book. That seemed to make Sherlock smile.  
John looked around the room, smiling, obviously pleased that Emma had settled in quickly, and made the place her own, until he spotted the ring and his eyebrows knitted in confusion. Sherlock must have noticed as he collected Rosie’s things, and then told her they were going upstairs, so John could talk to Emma, and both left the flat quietly. John was still staring at the ring.

“She has been so well-behaved today…”, Emma said, trying not to get onto the subject of what her Uncle was looking at.

“Em… Correct me, if I’m wrong, but that looks like an engagement ring.”, he said, ignoring her comment. “And I know it isn’t your Mum’s.”, he added.  
“No. It’s, er, well, it was mine.”, Emma sighed, sitting down, not sure she was ready for this talk with her Uncle John. It had seemed so easy to talk to Sherlock about it.

“It was yours? You’re only 19… What happened?”, John asked, taking a seat on the sofa.

“Before I start, I need to tell you something… Well, I am bisexual and the person I was engaged to was a, well, she was a girl.”, Emma told him. That was the biggest thing she was worried about. She knew he wouldn’t judge her about her sexuality but saying out loud was still difficult.

“Okay.”, John nodded simply. “So, was? She died?”

“Yes. She was two years older than me. We got together when I was 14. Engaged when I was 16. She went out with friends, and got behind the wheel of a car drunk, to drive everyone home, because she was the least drunk. The driver’s side got hit. She died a few days later in hospital. Her friends all survived.”, Emma explained.  
“When was this?”, John asked.

“Not long after we got engaged. Three years ago.”, Emma explained.

  
“I’m so sorry, Em… Though, you look as though you are over it now. It is hard. Especially with her being your first love, I’m guessing, but if you ever need to talk, I’m here, yes? I know what it’s like.”, John said, kneeling in front of Emma and taking her hand. Emma simply nodded and leant down to her hug her Uncle John. John welcomed the hug, saddened that he had not been there to help her through it when it had happened, but was glad his young cousin was back in his life.

“Thank you.”, Emma said, quietly, into John’s shoulder.

“Anytime, kiddo.”, he replied, pulling away and giving her a smile. He then gave her a kiss on the forehead and sat back on the sofa, still holding onto her hand.

“Anyway… You said Rosie was well-behaved? What did you two get up to today?”, John asked.

“We went for coffee with Jen, which reminds me, that I need to speak to you about Friday… And then we went shopping. I let Rosie pick some sweets. She chose Sherbet Lemons, which I thought was strange, until she explained that her Papa and Uncle Mycroft don’t like them. Smart kid. And then we came back and had some sandwiches for lunch whilst watching Moana.”

“Yes, the video made me smile. Thanks for that.”, John smiled.

“You’re welcome. Anyway, then she learned the Kings and Queens song. Then she watched Mary Poppins, whilst I did a bit of Uni work and cooked. And then we ate. I also need to talk to you about her high-chair…”, Emma explained.

“We have a spare one you can keep down here, if that was the problem.”, John said.

“That’d be perfect. Dragging the one down from upstairs was, quite frankly, a huge pain in the arse.”

“And you said something about Friday?”, John questioned.

“Oh, yeah… I have friends coming around for pre drinks before we go out. I just wanted to warn you, in case we’re loud. We’ll try and keep the noise down, but don’t know how well we will do with that once we have some alcohol in systems.”, Emma said.

“That’s fine. Thanks for the warning. Did Rosie eat all of her dinner?”, John asked.

“Yes, we had chicken, potatoes and veg. She ate every bit.”, Emma nodded.

“Good. Anyway, thanks so much for today, Em. I’d best be getting back upstairs. His Lord Highness needs feeding.”, John smiled.

“Of course. Night, Uncle John.”, Emma smiled, as John stood to leave.

“Night, chick.”, John smiled, before he left, with Emma following him to the door so she could lock up.

Emma spent the rest of the evening reading, with comedy panel games playing on her TV in the background, before going to bed, after making sure she had everything she needed for her day at Uni, the next day. The next few days passed by uneventfully, with Emma spending most her time between Uni and home, often doing Uni work. She often found herself, too, drinking tea with her Uncle John, after a morning at Uni, especially when there wasn’t a case on. Emma met Mrs Hudson, who loved her immediately, and the feeling was mutual. She reminded Emma of her Gran.


	4. Chapter 4

Emma had found herself looking forwards to her night out with her old housemates. When Friday came along, she went to her lectures in the morning and then met Jen, who had her overnight bag, and took her back to her new flat with her, for the first time.

“Oh my God, Em… I love it.”, Jen grinned, as she looked around the flat. She then put her bag in the spare room and the pair of them ate lunch, chatting aimlessly about the week they’d had. They were both doing a bit of Uni work, that afternoon, when there was a knock at the door.

“Come in!”, Emma yelled, from where she was sat. Emma was expecting it to be her Uncle John, but it wasn’t. It was Sherlock. He stood awkwardly in the doorway of the living room, which made Emma smile.

“Sit down, Curly. Cup of tea?”, Emma asked. It was nickname that she had christened him with during the week, which he didn’t like, but had stuck.

“Do you have coffee?”, Sherlock asked.

“Yep. Black, two sugars, right?”, Emma questioned, and he nodded, before she went to make it for him, leaving Sherlock in the room with Jen.

“You must be Jen.”, Sherlock started.

“Yes. Hi. I, erm. I’m a massive fan, Mr Holmes.”, Jen grinned, placing her highlighter lid on the pen, and putting it down on the desk next to her work.

“You have an interest in one of your housemates… You fancy him, as it were… In fact, you’re sleeping together.”, Sherlock stated, causing Jen to turn bright red.

“I, erm, well, I, uh…”, Jen babbled.

“It is the boy who made Emma’s life hell, isn’t it? Be careful with her… If anything happens to her, and I find it is your fault, or his fault, I would just like you to know that my brother holds a place in the British government and his partner is a homicide department, high-ranking police officer.”, Sherlock warned her.

Jen didn’t say anything. Just swallowed and nodded, trying not to blush even further.

“Biscuit? I have ginger nuts.”, Emma shouted through from the kitchen.

“Obviously.”, Sherlock replied. Jen had lost all of the colour in her face and was pale.

Emma entered the living room, handing Sherlock his coffee and biscuits. She took one look at Jen and then crossed her arms. “Okay, Curly... What did you say? Do I need to get Uncle John?”, Emma asked, looking annoyed.

“I assure you that won’t be necessary.”, Sherlock replied, doing his best impression of innocence, before sipping at his coffee.

“Hmm…”, Emma replied, not convinced. Emma then shot a look to Jen, to see if she was okay, to which Jen nodded to in reply, the colour in her cheeks returning slightly, as she went back to highlighting the notes she had made in her lectures that week.

“So, Curly… What brings you down here?”, Emma asked.

“Can’t I visit my favourite neighbour?”, Sherlock questioned, smirking a little.

“I’m not your favourite neighbour. Mrs Hudson is. Now, what do you want?”, Emma asked again, knowing full well that she was his favourite neighbour because of the amount of times he had used her living room as a bolthole, despite her having not been in the flat a whole week, at that point.

“It seems as though your Uncle John has a date. With a woman named Rita.”, Sherlock admitted.

“Rita? He hasn’t mentioned her to me.”, Emma said, frowning a little.

“Well, he probably knows you’d just take the piss, Em. I mean, you would…”, Jen joined in. Sherlock seemed surprised but nodded at the young woman’s comment.

“She’s not wrong, Em. But, er, he only met her today. And they’re going for a drink tonight. She was working with Molly.”, Sherlock explained.

“Today? And they’re going for a drink. Quick your Uncle John, isn’t he?”, Jen chuckled a little, having seemingly recovered from her ordeal with Sherlock.

“Not when it matters, no.”, Emma said, looking at Sherlock, who suddenly found his coffee very interesting. Emma was determined that, before the year was out, that she would get Sherlock and her Uncle John to admit their feelings for each other. And it was nearly the end of October, meaning she only had two months.

“Yes, well, it means I am on babysitting duty tonight with Rosie and was wondering if we could borrow your Disney subscription. We don’t have one, and you know how she loves her Disney films. I have some work to catch up on, for my blog, and it keeps her quiet.”, Sherlock asked.

“Of course, you can. I’ll just write down my sign-in details…”, Emma said, ripping a spare page from her notebook and writing down her details.

“You know I could have probably figured this out?”, Sherlock asked, looking at the piece of paper, once it was in his hand.

“I know. But it is easier to give it to you. Once you log in, there is a screen with different icons on for different people. Rosie has her own. Although, I am sure she’ll point that out to you.”, Emma explained.

“You are going out tonight, are you not?”, Sherlock asked.

“Yes, we are… Can’t wait. Need a good piss up.”, Emma grinned, gaining a small smile in return from Sherlock.

“Well, I shall contact my brother, then. He will sort travel. No need to worry yourself with untrustworthy and dangerous taxis.”, Sherlock stated, simply. It was clear that he had developed a soft spot for Emma.

“But you’re always jumping in and out the back of taxis.”, Emma said. “Not that having Mycie Moo’s staff chauffeur us wouldn’t be fun.”

“Can I remind you of the first case your Uncle John and I ever went on together?”, Sherlock said.

“Ah, yes… The one where you barely knew each other and he killed that evil cabbie to save your life?”, Emma grinned. Sherlock didn’t reply. He simply glared at her, over the edge of his coffee cup, as he took a long sip of the beverage.

“I need to put my laptop on charge… I am just going to grab my charger from my bag. I also need to ring Jack. He’s text about the washing machine again.”, Jen said, looking at her phone, before leaving the room.

“What did you say to her?”, Emma asked.

“Nothing.”, Sherlock replied a little too quickly.

“Bullshit. She looked as though she had seen a ghost when I came back in here with your coffee.”, Emma scoffed.

“You’re too much like your cousin, Emma Louise Parker.”, Sherlock simply stated, before draining his coffee cup, picking up some extra ginger nuts, with a smile, and taking his leave, leaving Emma to stare after him, smirking a little. Her head, however, was reeling. Why would her Uncle John go on a date with a woman he’d only just met, that day? Especially when he had a daughter and Sherlock Holmes at home. She concluded that he was either blind, stupid, or both. She hadn’t been back in his life for that long and even she could see that Sherlock Holmes would go to the ends of the Earth for both him and his daughter.

Emma let herself be free of the concern she had, however, before she could get worked up or annoyed by it. She put her work away, both her and Jen ate something, whilst chatting aimlessly about different rubbish, and then they started getting ready. Two hours later, at 7pm, the others arrived, and Emma was dressed in a red dress, that came to her mid-thigh, a pair of black heels and the make-up she had done was pristine. She looked gorgeous. They started drinking then, playing music through her TV as they caught up and laughed. Emma didn’t hear her Uncle John leave for his date, but John had stopped at the bottom of the stairs, chuckling a little as he listened to his cousin and her friends singing along to the Spice Girls loudly and mostly out of tune.  
Three bottles of wine and one cider later, Emma staggered a little, as she left the building, to get into a car Mycroft had provided, with her friends. As she left, she looked up to see Sherlock stood at the window, playing his violin, and watching her. She gave him an enthusiastic wave, and he gave her a small smile in return, amusement playing in his eyes at how she was when drunk, and then she was on her way.


	5. Chapter 5

Sherlock stood, playing his violin, quietly for a long time after he had watched Emma pull away in the black car with her friends. By that time, Rosie had been in bed for a while. Sherlock liked Emma tremendously. He couldn’t quite work out why, but he felt the need to protect her as soon as he had set eyes on her. It was getting close to 11pm and John still hadn’t returned from his date. Sherlock hadn’t expected him to return until the early hours, anyway. He had gone out in his ‘pulling’ shirt as Greg had christened it once. Sherlock wasn’t angry with John. He was jealous, of course, but couldn’t muster up the emotion of anger towards his best friend. If John didn’t know then he wasn’t going to be able to act on it. And with him being back out on the dating scene, Sherlock knew it wouldn’t be long before he lost John and Rosie to whichever woman caught John’s attention next. He had loved Mary. He had loved Mary because she knew that he loved her husband, but she wasn’t jealous. After all, John had married Mary and had a child with her. He knew Mary appreciated him and Mary became a closer friend than he had ever intended. When she died, he was broken. His John blamed him. His John didn’t want anything to do with him. But it was so much more than just that. He had lost a friend. A best friend. The void left by her absence was unbearable. In saving his life, Mary had placed a value on Sherlock’s life that he did not know how to spend. And he felt like he was failing her. Not only did her husband move back into Baker Street within the year after her death, her gorgeous daughter called him Papa and looked to him as a role model in her life. Sherlock had thrown himself into the role that Rosie had given him, convincing himself that it was enough to be her Father, and that he didn’t need to be with John, romantically. Sometimes, however, he wished he was. Emma had been right. Sherlock couldn’t believe how well Emma had turned out. She had lost her Father and her fiancée in her 19 years on the planet and she took everything in her stride. She wasn’t rich, by any means, but always made sure to give food to homeless people and dropped her coppers into charity pots and she always had time for him. He would just walk into her flat and sit down and she would provide coffee and biscuits, only talking to him when she knew he wanted to talk. Otherwise, she would occupy herself with her Uni work, or a book, and they would sit in a comfortable silence as he sat in his mind palace. He hoped she enjoyed his company as much as he enjoyed hers, but then it was apparent that she did because of the nickname he had found himself with. Curly. He was secretly fond of it. If it had come from anyone else, he wouldn’t be. Yes, Emma was important. She was important to John, so she was important to him. He was glad he could escape to Emma’s flat. Sometimes, when things got a bit much, he just needed a moment to compose himself (and eat ginger nut biscuits undisturbed) before being able to talk about or show too much emotion. He still found it difficult, although he was definitely a lot better than he ever had been. Emma provided a safe haven in the madness of Baker Street, though he was glad she was still taking time for herself by going out with friends and allocating time for Uni work. He admired that she set aside time for work and play. It was the right way to go about it. When he had been at Uni, it had been all work and no play. And, equally, he had seen people crash and burn when it came to their studies, but they had the biggest and best social lives of anyone. He thought Emma had the balance just right, however.

John returned at quarter to 12, smelling of booze. He thanked Sherlock for watching Rosie but was off up the stairs to bed before Sherlock could tell him how bad his date had gone.

“Well, at least it didn’t go well…”, Sherlock mentally told himself. Despite John being back safely, Sherlock still felt the lump of dread in his throat, and knew it was because he was worried about Emma. He knew that she could handle herself, but it didn’t stop him worrying all the same. It gave him an insight as to how he was going to feel when Rosie was older, and she was off galivanting. He knew something was wrong, however, when one of Mycroft’s cars pulled up outside of the building just after 1 o’clock and Emma staggered out of the back out it, the driver jumping out to help her. Sherlock immediately raced downstairs, flinging the door open and grabbing onto Emma’s small frame. She was shaking, but Sherlock could tell it wasn’t from the cold. She was high but knew that it hadn’t been her own doing by the way her body was reacting to it.

“Emma? What happened?”, Sherlock asked, as he helped her onto her sofa, pulling her bin next to her, in case she was sick.

“Jack. He, er, put something in my drink and I didn’t realise until I had drunk it. I told him he wasn’t welcome to shag Jen in my house, after it all came out that they have been shagging all month. I don’t think he was happy with that.”, Emma explained, slurring and swaying. Her pupils were blown, and her jaw was swinging.

“Your jaw is swinging. Try not to grind your teeth. Have you got any gum? It must’ve been MD. Just hold tight, your bin is there if you need to be sick… I’ll get John.”, Sherlock said, before racing up the two flights of stairs to John’s tiny box room, and barging in. Luckily, Rosie had a tiny separate room, that was technically part of Mrs Hudson’s flat.

“John! John! Wake up! Emma has been spiked…”, Sherlock said, shaking the man awake.

John slowly opened his eyes, not used to being woken up in such a matter. “Sherlock? What’s happened?”

“I just said, weren’t you listening? Emma has been spiked.”, Sherlock repeated.

John was suddenly wide awake, he jumped out of bed and followed Sherlock to where he had left Emma. She was sat on the edge of her sofa, her dress around her waist, dry heaving into her rubbish bin.

“Em, it’s okay… It’ll pass. You’ve just got to ride it out…”, John reassured her, sitting next to her and rubbing her back, pulling her hair away from her face, “Sherlock, some cold water, please?”

Sherlock obliged silently, going to the kitchen and getting the water for him, before placing it on the coffee table next to Emma and crouching next to her, rubbing her arm a little.

“This really isn’t nice…”, Emma let out, still retching.

“I know, I’m sorry. If I ever find out who did this, I will get them by the bollocks and swing them to the other side of Regent’s Park.”, John told her.

“It was her ex housemate, Jack.”, Sherlock said. John could tell that Sherlock was concerned for Emma and just as angry as he was for the state of the girl. “Don’t worry… I will work my magic. Just have to bide my time.”, he added, looking to John, who nodded in reply. He wasn’t going to argue with him. He wanted the little bastard to suffer.

Emma sipped at some water and seemed to settle for a moment, but it didn’t mean she had stopped sweating. Her jaw was swinging less but was still swinging and she couldn’t hold herself up very well.

“How was your date, Three Continents Watson?”, Emma asked, pulling a small smile, despite the way she was feeling.

“Er, not great. That’s all I need to say about it, I think. I don’t even know why I bothered. I wasn’t even interested but she was nice, and I was flattered, I guess.”, John replied, chuckling a little. At least he had slept some of his booze off. Sherlock paid very close attention to John’s words, hanging onto them with hope. He was glad John hadn’t been interested. He was, however, annoyed that he would go out with someone just because he was flattered. He then thought back to what John had said about cheating on Mary, however, and understood it more. Not that he did cheat on Mary, of course. It was just texting. Even Sherlock texted people. In fact, he texted a lot of people. It didn’t mean he wanted to sleep with all of them.

“I’m glad it didn’t go well.”, Emma told John, but before he could ask why, Emma began retching again, this time actually filling the bin with the contents of her stomach. John carried on rubbing her back, whilst Sherlock picked up a hair tie off the table and tied her hair into a loose ponytail, so it was out of the way. John noticed that and gave Sherlock a smile, a little surprised at how attentive he was being towards her. Sherlock gave him a small, seemingly shy smile in reply, before picking up the glass of water, ready to give to Emma when she needed it.

  
The pair of them cared for Emma way into the next day, with Sherlock insisting he sat by her bed whilst she slept, in case not all of the drug had got out of her system and she choked on her own vomit. He had done that on more than one occasion. From experience, he knew it wasn’t nice. By midday, Emma was feeling a lot better and was lay on her sofa, wrapped up in her favourite, fluffiest blanket, thinking over what had happened and how she had lost a friend due to a stupid boy. Jen always complained about Jack, which is why Emma was so confused but she resolved that she would only stick around with the people on her course, whilst she was at Uni and, hopefully, get closer to them. She didn’t want to be alone.

At around 6 in the evening, John was upstairs in 221B giving Rosie a bath, and Emma was still wrapped up in her blanket on the sofa. Sherlock was sat with her. He was typing away frantically on his phone, clearly solving a case or two, but that didn’t bother Emma. She was just glad of the company and was happy to sit and watch crap telly. That is until there was a knock at the door and Sherlock’s head shot up, immediately. Emma started the motions of getting up, but was stopped by a look from Sherlock, who then stood and went to answer the door. It was clear it wasn’t John or Mrs Hudson, as they would usually just walk right in after a shorter knock.

“Ah, Jen. Come to pick up your things, I presume?”, Emma heard, and immediately began to panic.

“Er, yeah. Is Emma in? Can I talk to her?”, Jen asked, sheepishly.

“She is in.”, Sherlock replied simply, before there was silence for a few moments before he entered the living room again, taking residence in his usual armchair, leaving Jen stood at the door. Jen looked as though she had been crying for most of the day.

“Em, I am so sorry.”, Jen tried, but Sherlock glared at her and it cut her off before she could get any further with her pathetic excuses.

“Just one thing… Why not just tell me? And why him? He is the most awful human being I have ever had the misfortune to come across… He drugged me, for God’s sake, because I said he wasn’t welcome to shag you in my flat. Which, by the way, I wouldn’t have minded as much if you’d have been fucking honest with me from the start. And, as you know, I have connections in high places, thanks to Sherlock, so he will be being reported for spiking me. And evidence will be gathered about him doing it to others as well, as well as him being done for possession and supplying. I don’t know what Sherlock said to you, exactly, yesterday but I can make deductions of my own. I know that he warned you about this. I may have been alone in this city, but I am not anymore, and I have never been vulnerable. And before you say it… I know I haven’t known him long, but Sherlock Holmes is an incredible man and he has already helped me through so much. If it wasn’t for him, I could have choked on my own vomit last night. He and Uncle John have stayed with me and helped me through it. You, however, have only just shown up, probably because you realised that stuff you really need is here. Now, I suggest, you get your stuff and go. I don’t want to see you again. I can’t be friends with someone who lies and let something like that happen to them. You knew he would do something, and you didn’t stop him. If you’re not out of here in 3 minutes, then I am sure Sherlock has plenty to add on the situation.”

Jen didn’t say anything, as tears rolled down her cheeks. She simply nodded and then went into the spare bedroom. Two minutes later, she had collected all of her things and was back out of the door.

“She really didn’t want to hear what I thought, did she?”, Sherlock smiled, trying to provoke a smile out of Emma.

“I guess not.”, she chuckled lightly, in reply.

“You said about all the charges that are going to be put against him… How did you know? I didn’t tell you.”, Sherlock asked.“I heard you on the phone to who, I presume, was your brother, Greg or both. You thought I was asleep, but I wasn’t. I wanted to know what you had planned for him. I knew it wouldn’t be good. He deserves it though. Will he get jail time?”, Emma questioned, her eyebrows knitted slightly. Her head was still pounding slightly and the concentration it had taken to keep on track when talking to Emma was taking its toll.

“If we can help it, yes. That little bastard spiked you. God knows what could have happened to you. You have just got John back and he has just got you back. I can’t bear to think what would happen to him if he had lost you. Especially after Mary.”, Sherlock admitted. Just then there was a commotion on the corridor, and Rosie came running into the living room, closely followed by John. Rosie climbed up onto Sherlock’s knee, and snuggled in. She was dressed in her pyjamas, after having had her bath, and looked a little sleepy.

“Remember what I said, little bee… 5 minutes of cuddles with Papa and then bed. Emma is not well, and Papa and I are treating her to a late dinner.”, John warned, as he picked up Emma’s feet (so he had room on the sofa) and sat next to her, placing her feet on his lap. “I’m guessing that was Jen?”

“Er, yeah. Curly didn’t need to say anything though. I handled it on my own.”, Emma grinned a little. “And you’re treating me to dinner again? I will give you some money back.”

“No, you won’t. You’ve been through an ordeal.”, John said, patting her leg. Emma decided it was probably best not to argue with John and just nodded, rolling her eyes a little.

“How are you, bambino?”, Emma asked Rosie, who was snuggled right into her Papa, playing with the curls at the nape of his neck.

“I am tired.”, Rosie admitted, yawning a little, still pulling at Sherlock’s curls. He didn’t seem bothered by it, however. In fact, it seemed to relax him a little, especially after being on guard when Jen had shown up. Rosie seemed to have that effect on him. He always seemed completely at ease when Rosie was near. Rosie then drifted off rather quickly after that, leaving her flopped across Sherlock, who then slowly stood up and took her upstairs.

“He is so good with her… Better than I could have ever imagined.”, John smiled after them.

“He loves her to bits. It is plain as day. He would anything for her. And he’d do anything for you.”, Emma grinned.

“I know he would, which is why I can’t scare him away…”, John said, sighing.

“Uncle John… You mean?”, Emma asked, knowing what was going on. “Then what was that date all about?”

“That date was to prove to myself I still had it. I just, well, and partly to make him jealous, I guess.”, John admitted.

“Sorry, not sorry, about what I am about to say, but you are a daft twat.”

“Emma!”

“You are! You are so daft if you think you need to make him jealous. He thought he was going to lose you. That you find some nice little woman and that you and Rosie wouldn’t need him anymore. God, you both need your heads smashed together.”, Emma told him, faking annoyance.

Before John could reply, however, their food arrived, so John and Emma went up to 221B to eat. Sherlock joined them not long after they had settled down to eat, having put Rosie to bed, and began to eat too. It was a quiet enough evening in Baker Street, with Mrs Hudson occupying her time with catching up on telly she had missed and the rest of Baker Street doing odd bits and bobs. Sherlock began composing. John was updating his blog, by introducing Emma. And Emma was reading on the sofa.


	6. Chapter 6

The next day was a Sunday, and the whole household went out for the day, walking around Regent’s Park. Emma loved how close the house was to the park, what with her love of green, open spaces (something that was rare in big cities). Emma still felt a little ropey so was glad when she got an email through that her lecture, the next day, had been cancelled due to strikes (which most of her professors were taking part in). However, she thoroughly enjoyed her day. They fed the ducks, went on the playground, ate lunch in a little café, had more of a walk and had a pub dinner, before going home. Rosie, who was sat up on Sherlock’s shoulders, had fallen asleep, with her face buried in Sherlock’s hair on the top of his head, and Emma held her Uncle John’s hand, like she had done when she was a little girl. Some people gave them strange looks, but Emma didn’t care. She wanted the comfort and warmth of John’s hand in hers. She still felt a little shaken after her ordeal and was worried about not having friends.

The Monday was a quiet one in 221 Baker Street. Emma spent the day in her flat, catching up on the work she hadn’t done over the weekend, due to her being ill, and making sure she messaged her closest friend from her course, Lucy, who was told about the whole ordeal and who then proceeded to tell Emma what she would do if she ever saw Jen around campus, which made Emma smile. Upstairs, Rosie was out for most of the day, at nursery, whilst John took a shift at a local GP surgery, as a LOCUM, and Sherlock stayed at home, conducting some experiment or other. Emma wasn’t sure what he was doing, but she could smell burning, at one point. Mrs Hudson popped in, with some biscuits for her (after hearing about her weekend) and stayed for a cup of tea.

“Mrs Hudson, why are Uncle John and Sherlock so blind? I mean, it’s obvious they are mad for each other and, yet, neither of them acts on it.”, Emma asked the landlady.

“Well, dear, I have been trying to set them up for years. Before Sherlock faked his own death, I was sure they’d end up together eventually, despite John’s protests that he isn’t gay. And, well, when Sherlock came back, he expected everything to be as he had left it, but John had moved on and met Mary. She would have loved you, you know… And I think she knew that John held a special place for Sherlock in his heart, but she never questioned it. And she never got jealous, either. In fact, she and Sherlock became good friends. She died saving his life. I think it was one of those things, you know. If John was made to choose between Mary or Sherlock then he would always have chosen Sherlock, and Mary knew that. But she didn’t mind. In the end, she sacrificed herself so John would be happier. Of course, he wasn’t happy at first. He really did love Mary. Anyone could see that. And they worked so well together, but Mary wasn’t Sherlock, and that was the problem. John took a long time coming round after her death. He blamed Sherlock. Of course, it wasn’t his fault. Mary had chosen to jump in front and take the bullet for him, but Sherlock blamed himself too. It wasn’t until to whole ordeal with Sherlock’s sister that I think they were truly back to how they had been before.”, Mrs Hudson explained.

“I didn’t know Sherlock had a sister…”, Emma said.

“She caused a lot of trouble, Emma, dear. I am sure they will tell you all about it, when they’re ready. The aftermath of that is what made Mycroft and Greg closer, however. So, some good did come out of it. I have never seen Mycroft Holmes be more agreeable. I mean he still has his moments, of course, as does Sherlock, but they are both better off now.”

The next day was a seemingly normal day, when Emma woke up. She got up, had a quick shower, got dressed, ate some breakfast, grabbed everything she needed for the day and set off, getting on the tube for the short ten-minute tube journey to university. When she arrived at her seminar, she was confused. Her lecturer, Richard, was usually in the room before everyone arrived but he was, most definitely, not there. Emma took her place at a table with Lucy, George and Jess, taking her things out, and looking confused.

“Where is Richard?”, Emma asked Lucy.

“No clue. Apparently, we have got someone new taking over this module. Rhia, in second year, had him yesterday and said he is beyond gorgeous.”, Lucy smiled.

“Well, anything is better than looking at Richard. He looks like a shrivelled scrotum.”, Emma grinned, before the class turned their attention to door where none other than Greg Lestrade entered the room. He noticed Emma and gave the smallest shaking of his head, as if he was telling her to go along with it. She nodded slightly, before writing the date at the top of the page and tried to not let on that she knew the man. (He had been around to Baker Street a few times, both with and without Mycroft, so they’d got to know each other a little).

“Good morning, guys… So, as you can probably see, I am not Richard. My name is Mark Graves and I will be teaching you this module for the foreseeable future. Now, I believe we are up to school story tropes, so if you could all take out your copies of Harry Potter, that’d be lovely. Now, I presume you have all read it and, if not, then that you have at least seen the films. We’re going to be looking, today, at different elements of the school story trope and see if they are present, and what they bring, to Harry Potter.”

Emma was excited for the lesson as she loved school stories, but she couldn’t help feel a little distracted that Greg Lestrade, of all people, was stood there, conducting her seminar beyond professionally, and that he was calling himself Mark Graves. She wasn’t stupid, of course. She knew that he must be undercover and that she wouldn’t be able to tell anyone that she knew who he really was, in case she blew that cover, but what she didn’t understand was why he was in her university, teaching her.

During the seminar, ‘Mark’ set the class a task, that they had to carry out in the groups they were sat in, and he wandered around each table to see how they were getting on and to discuss different things with them. Emma felt lucky that her table was last, due to it being close to the front of the room, and found herself trying to mentally prepare to actually talk to the man she vaguely knew, whilst pretending he was someone else.

“So, guys… What do we have?”, ‘Mark’ asked her table. Lucy was too busy staring at him dreamily to answer, so George dove straight in to discuss what they had been discussing as a table.

“Well, Harry Potter is more than a school story, due to it being fantasy too, but it is fundamentally a school story as that is where most of the action is set. It is also a coming of age story, too, obviously about the titular Harry Potter.”, George relayed, and ‘Mark’ smiled.

“Good. I agree that it is fundamentally, and first and foremost a school story… Does anyone else have anything to add?”, ‘Mark’ questioned.

“Well, er, you could say that, because of the fantasy elements of the story, that it is more engaging to a younger audience, in comparison to older ‘school stories’ such as ‘Tom Brown’s School days’ and ‘Mallory Towers’, especially seeing as Harry is from a seemingly normal background. In older stories, it tends to all be posh toffs that are at these posh boarding schools, whereas Harry Potter shows a number of different backgrounds, both Wizard and Muggle. I mean, the Weasley family are a, very much, working class family. The Dursley’s seem to be more middle class. And the Malfoy’s are very much in tune with the older school stories, with them being posh, pure blood wizards, who think that they are a cut above.”, Emma added, smiling slightly at ‘Mark’s’ reaction to what she was saying.

“Very good… Er?”, ‘Mark’ said.

“Emma.”

“Emma… Yes, that is a very good point. J.K.Rowling did make the school story trope more accessible and more relative to a modern audience, in comparison to older stories of the genre. Very good.”, ‘Mark’ smiled, before heading back to the front of the class and continuing with his power point.

At the end of the seminar, ‘Mark’ let everyone go, and Emma felt strange. However, despite knowing that the man who had just taught her was a DI at Scotland Yard, she found that the seminar had been the best seminar she had ever had, since starting university, and hoped that Greg’s undercover mission would mean that she would get taught by him more often. Emma went with Lucy, George and Jess to the Starbucks, which was on campus, for a coffee and something to eat, before their afternoon lecture, and the talk was, obviously, of their new, ‘hot’ lecturer, ‘Mark’.

“I mean, come on, Em… You have to agree. There is something hot about the whole silver fox thing he has going on.”, Lucy said.

“I mean, I suppose, but he is probably old enough to be your Dad, Lu.”, Emma chuckled a little, finding it funny how her friend was so obsessed with Greg, of all people. Whilst they were eating, Emma got a text.

Undercover, as I am sure you have figured out. Just carry on as normal. – MH

Yeah, figured it out. Thanks for clarifying, though. Can I know what it’s all about? Em x

Baker Street. 6pm – MH

Emma didn’t reply to the last one, as it was pretty self-explanatory. She hoped that Mycroft knew what he was doing as she didn’t, particularly, want her first year of university to be fucked up by some undercover operation that was going to blow up massively and mean that the university was overrun by Mycroft’s minions, disguised as lecturers, who didn’t really know what they were doing. She was just glad that Greg had seemed to do his homework.

Her afternoon was a lot less eventful than her morning, and she glad to be heading home when her last lecture of the day finished at 2pm. On her way home, she met John outside Rosie’s nursery, and walked the rest of the way home with them, listening to Rosie babble about what she had done that day and who she was friends with, and the such. John seemed distracted, however, and Emma couldn’t help but feel that it was something to do with why Greg had taught her seminar that morning. Sherlock was out when they got in, so John sat Rosie in front of the telly, as she played with some toys between her Father’s armchairs, and Emma busied herself by consolidating her notes from that day. John tried to read a paper but put it down fairly quickly. He then tried to do something on his laptop, only to be closing the lid and placing it on the coffee table five minutes later, with a huff.

“Okay, Uncle John, what is it?”, Emma asked, sticking the lid back on her pen.

“I don’t know what you mean.”, John tried to act nonchalantly.

“You can’t sit still. You can’t keep focused… What is going on?”, Emma asked.

“It’s a bloody case. Sherlock got a case about something at your Uni, but he won’t tell me what is going on. All I know is that Greg has been sent in undercover.”, John admitted.

“Yeah, I know Greg is undercover. He taught me today. He is calling himself Mark Graves. I didn’t see Sherlock around though. Although, I did get a text off Mycroft saying he’d explain everything this evening, at 6."

“Well, at least one Holmes brother is keeping us in the loop…”, John huffed slightly. Emma could see that he was annoyed that Sherlock was keeping him in the dark about the case, and it didn’t give Emma much confidence. She knew that, when it came to cases, John was always involved, especially since moving back into Baker Street, so the fact that he was being pushed out worried her massively.

“I’m sure Sherlock will explain.”, Emma said, trying to reassure herself as well as John.

“He won’t. He’ll keep me in the dark until the last possible moment. Or he just won’t tell me what’s going on at all.”, John replied. Rosie then started to get restless and looked to Emma.

“Can we learn something new today, Emma?”, Rosie asked, standing and toddling over to where Emma was sat at the desk.

“Er, yeah, sure. Let me have a think about what we can learn…”, Emma grinned. She loved the inquisitive nature of the young girl and could see Sherlock’s intelligence rubbing off on her, but she knew John wasn’t exactly stupid. He did have a medical degree, after all. Emma racked her brains about what she could teach the young girl. She knew Sherlock would take the scientific approach when it came to teaching new things to Rosie, so Emma made an executive decision to teach Rosie bits of history and literature – things that Sherlock didn’t think to be important.

“How about some Shakespeare?”, Emma asked the young girl. Rosie’s eyes lit up and she smiled.

“Oooo, yes please.”, Rosie grinned, nodding.

“Okay, so I think a sonnet for today… How about sonnet 130?”

“My Mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun?”, John asked, smiling a little.

“Yeah…”, Emma smiled. After just half an hour, Rosie was able to recite sonnet 130 and sonnet 3, without any prompting, and seemed very pleased with herself.

She even recapped the Kings and Queens song that Emma had taught her previously. Due to his daughter being so bright, John’s mood seemed to be better, but Emma could tell he was still far from feeling normal. He just seemed at a loss. What Emma didn’t know, however, was that what she had said to him, whilst they were both sat on her sofa a few days before, was swimming around his head. It was obvious that Emma thought that he and Sherlock should be together, and he didn’t know what to think of it. Even when she was very young, Emma had always been right, when it came to him. John knew that his feelings towards his best friend were far from platonic, and he loved the way that his daughter called him Papa. Every time he heard it, it made his heart ache and he had to resist grinning. He wanted more. Of course, he did. But he was scared that he would just end up pushing Sherlock away.

Emma went downstairs soon after, taking her things with her to put away but was soon back upstairs, with food for herself, John and Rosie. She had made cottage pie, and had made too much, so John had agreed that they would all eat together. Sherlock had supposed to have been joining but was still nowhere to be seen. After eating, Emma gave Rosie a bath and put her to bed, whilst John washed up and tidied the flat a little, in preparation for Mycroft coming.  
At precisely 6 o’clock, Mycroft turned up, alone. Emma was still upstairs, sorting Rosie out, and John was sat with a cup of tea.

“Tea, Mycroft? I have just brewed a pot.”, John asked.

“That would be lovely, John. Thank you.”, Mycroft nodded, smiling a little, before sitting in the seat that was usually taken up by his brother.

“I’ll just be a minute. I’ll pour one for Em too. She insisted on putting Rosie to bed tonight. Rosie tends to be a bit awkward at bedtime if Sherlock isn’t home…”, John explained.

Mycroft simply nodded, in reply, knowing that the news he was about to give John would distress him greatly. Emma then appeared, giving Mycroft a smile, before sitting on the sofa. John brought the tea in and Mycroft didn’t hang about getting to the point.

“So, I will get straight to the point, with this one. Greg is currently under cover at UCL as an English lecturer. There has been an issue, which has come to light, within the university. It seems that one of the teachers is a member of a sex ring, and he is recruiting innocent university students, both male and female, into it. Greg is posing as a lecturer to get to the man that way, as he teaches Media, and they are in the same offices. Now, this is the bit I am afraid is the bit you are not going to particularly like, John.”, Mycroft explained, warning John.

“Just get on with it, Mycroft. I am sure I can handle it.”, John replied, before taking a sip of his tea.

“Of course. Well, we are trying to get to him by another route too, which is by placing Sherlock in his AA meetings. Through that, Sherlock has struck up a relationship with him and is, shall we say, making him very happy indeed.”, Mycroft winced.

“You mean to tell me that Greg is undercover and is in danger by working with this man? That Emma is in danger due to being at the university he is recruiting for a sex ring from? And that Sherlock Holmes is going to be this man’s boyfriend and potentially bring him into this house?”, John asked, as calmly as he could, but Emma could see his knuckles whitening as his grip on the mug in his hand got tighter.

“I am sorry, John… If we get to the sex ring, we will be saving hundreds of people. And Sherlock has been asked for personally, along with Greg, by a prominent MP whose daughter is involved in it.”, Mycroft said, trying to play to John’s kind heart.

“I understand that. Of course, I do, Mycroft. But why does this always happen to us?”, John asked, seeming to calm down a little.

“I think you know the answer to that, John.”, Mycroft said, smiling a little.

“How do we keep Emma safe?”, John asked, surprising Emma that his thoughts were on her and not Sherlock.  
“I will be fine, Uncle John.”, Emma insisted.

“No, we need precautions in place, Mycroft. I have only just got her back in my life.”, John told the older man.

“Honestly, Uncle John. I will be fine. He doesn’t even teach me.”, Emma said again.

“I am afraid that doesn’t make any difference, my dear.”, Mycroft told her.

“I am not incapable of looking after myself.”, Emma replied.

“We never said you were, Em. I would just feel a lot better if you had something in place. For you and your immediate friends. I will not have you affected by this, Em. You’ve been through enough.”, John said.

“If you wish.”, Emma replied, not wanting to argue, and knowing it was best, really. John smiled at her, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. His eyes had lost their sparkle.

“So, is Sherlock going to be bringing that man back here? And, if so, what do we do? I don’t want him preying on Emma and I don’t really want Rosie to be around him…”, John asked Mycroft.

“I am sorry, John, but you’re going to just have to let it happen.”, Mycroft replied, looking genuinely upset for John. John just nodded, before excusing himself to the bathroom.

“Emma, I hate to ask this, and of course, there will be people and plans in place to keep you safe, but if this man approaches you, you’re going to have to let it happen. Hopefully, it won’t come to that, of course, with Greg and Sherlock being placed where they have for a reason, but it may become a means to an end.”, Mycroft told Emma, quietly, so John would not hear. Mycroft knew that John was sceptical and scared about the situation already, without adding Emma as potential bait to mix.

“Tell me what I need to do, and I’ll do it.”, Emma replied, knowing how important this case would be. When she first moved into Baker Street, she wondered if she would ever get to assist on a case. This, however, wasn’t what she imagined. She imagined running through the streets of London, hot on the heels of some criminal, not throwing herself at a creep who was a part of a sex ring.

John then returned from the bathroom, and it was evident that he had been crying, but neither Mycroft nor Emma broached the topic.  
“I should be going… I promised Greg I would help him with some marking.”, Mycroft smiled, a little.

“Just as long as I get a 2:2 or above on the essay that’s due next week, I’ll be happy.”, Emma grinned.

“Well, we’ll have to see. But, from what Greg has told me, you’re a brilliant student, anyway.”, Mycroft replied, before nodding to John and taking his leave.

“It’ll be okay, Uncle John. You know it’ll be okay.”, Emma said, sitting in front of John’s chair, wrapping herself around his legs, like she used to when she was little.

“I wish I could believe you, Em. I just wish there was another way. Sherlock and fake relationships for cases are never a good idea. He proposed to someone to gain access to an office once. And Greg undercover as your teacher? I don’t want your learning to be compromised. I know how hard you worked to get there.”

“Don’t worry about that. He is actually the best lecturer I have had all semester. Much better than the guy we had before. Richard.”, Emma reassured him.

“And then there is the fact that you will be in direct danger. I’m not stupid, Em. I know Mycroft will have asked you to let it happen if that slimeball comes onto you and tries to recruit you. And I fully understand why, and I know you will have said yes, because helping people is in your nature, but that scares me massively, Em. What would I tell your Mother if we were too late and you were shipped off to the Middle East somewhere, and we never found you again?”, John asked, stroking Emma’s hair as he spoke, trying to calm himself down.

“I am sure it won’t come to that… And, if it does, I will write a letter in advance, which you can give to her, explaining it was my choice.”, Emma explained. “You know, when I moved in here, I was excited at the prospect of getting to help out on a case. I didn’t think it would be something like this though. I guess people forget about all of this stuff going on, unless they are directly affected by it.”

“I hadn’t thought about I like that.”, John admitted. He was used to hearing about and dealing with terrible things, when helping his best friend to solve crimes. He hadn’t thought about other people not having to deal with those things on an almost daily basis.

“How about we watch a film?”, Emma asked, pulling away and plonking into Sherlock’s armchair.

“Well, it doesn’t look as though Sherlock is going to be coming home tonight, so at least we’ll be able to watch it in peace. What film shall we watch?”, John asked, smiling a little at Emma’s endeavour to cheer him up a little.

“How about Star Trek?”

“You only want to watch that because Chris Pine is in it, but sure.”, John chuckled a little.

The pair of them then sat and watched the film, commenting on different things throughout, and eating dinner (which consisted of a pot noodle for Emma and leftovers from the day before for John). However, it did feel weird, them watching a film, without Sherlock’s running commentary about how unrealistic it was and how the science was all wrong. It was annoying when it was happening, but it was missed when it wasn’t there. Once the film was over, Emma bid John goodnight and then went downstairs to bed, making sure to pack her bag for the next day, before going to sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

The next few days were strange, and a bit of a blur. John continued to care for Rosie and Emma continued to go to university and complete her work. In that time, Sherlock only appeared a few times, and the last time he had shown up at home, whilst Emma, John and Rosie were all eating together, he was sporting a deep, purple hickey on his neck. The tension emanating from John did not go unnoticed by Emma or Rosie, but Sherlock seemed to be oblivious to it. At one point, when Sherlock started discussing the man in question, Emma put her hand over John’s clenched fist, under the table. By the weekend, things seemed to be, almost, back to normal in Baker Street. Sherlock was there to help with childcare and was back to playing his violin at all hours of the day and night. John seemed to be more relaxed, once Sherlock was back in flat more. And Emma was glad to see her Uncle John more settled than she had seen him since it all started.

The issue came on the Wednesday, a week and a day since John and Emma had been visited by Mycroft. Emma was sat with Rosie at the desk in the living room of 221B. She was doing some bits of work for university, whilst Rosie sat colouring. Some cartoon or other was playing on the telly in the background. John had gone out to get some essential shopping, as they had run out and the Tesco order,` he had placed wasn’t due to arrive for a few more days. Emma heard them first. She heard the low rumble of Sherlock’s voice, which carried through the walls of Baker Street, and another voice, which she hadn’t heard before. Without thinking about it, she let out a sigh and braced herself. Rosie smiled when she saw Sherlock come into the room but frowned as the strange man followed him into the room, both of them laughing.

“Where’s John, Em?”, Sherlock asked, as the man put his arm around Sherlock’s waist, which made Emma want to vomit a little bit.

“Shop. You’ve run out of milk and bread.”, Emma replied, trying her best to not look like she wanted to punch Sherlock’s new fake beau.

“And who is this?”, the man asked, gesturing to Rosie, who got up off her chair and climbed onto Emma’s lap.

“This is Rosie. Come on, Rosie-bear. Say hello.”, Sherlock urged, walking over and picking her up off Emma’s knee.

“I don’t want to, Papa.”, Rosie told him, hiding her face in his neck.

“Don’t worry, Lance. She is just a shy child.”, Sherlock smiled at the man, who nodded a little and smiled in reply.

“No, she isn’t.”, Emma muttered to herself.

“And you’re John’s second cousin who lives downstairs, am I right? And you study at UCL? I teach there.”, Lance said to Emma.

“Uh, yeah… I do English.”, Emma smiled, pulling out her best acting skills.

“I teach media. Did you pick any media modules?”, he asked.

“Unfortunately, no. I chose history as my non-course module. I’m a sucker for it.”, Emma replied. “I have even been trying to get Rosie into it. She knows all of her English Kings and Queens from 1066 until now.”, Emma told him.

“Impressive.”, Lance smiled. It was at that moment that John came up the stairs, with two bags in his hands. When he realised who was in the flat, he went straight into the kitchen.

“I am just going to help… Asked him to pick me up some crisps.”, Emma said, before going into the kitchen.

The look in John’s eyes showed her she was right to have come in and give him a pep talk.

“I got you your crisps, don’t worry. I also picked up some of that ice cream you like, to say thanks for watching Rosie for a bit.”, John said, placing the ice cream in their freezer, knowing Emma was often in their flat, rather than her own.

“Thanks…”, Emma said. “He’s called Lance, by the way.”

“I know… Sherlock seems to actually get along with him.”, John sighed, as he put things away in the cupboards.

“You know how good he is at acting. Now, go in there and show him a performance worthy of 10 Oscars, 12 Tony’s and 6 Olivier’s.”, Emma said, seriously. John looked at his cousin, in a bit of shock, before nodding and putting away the last few bits, before going into the living room, with Emma hot on his heels.

When they entered the living room, Rosie was sat back at the desk, colouring, with a frown on her face, and Sherlock and Lance were sat on the sofa. They were sat close together, with Lance’s arm around Sherlock’s shoulders and Sherlock’s hand resting on Lance’s thigh, just above his knee.

“Sorry about that, I had ice cream in the shopping that I wanted to get in the freezer.”, John smiled. “You must be Lance. I’m John. John Watson.”, he added, putting his hand out to shake Lance’s.

“Nice to meet you, John. Sherlock has told me lots about you. I love your blog too. My favourite is A Study in Pink.”, Lance smiled, as he shook John’s hand. Emma decided that, if she didn’t know that the man was involved in a sex ring, she would probably like him.

“Ah, yes… That’s a special one. Our first case together. Do you remember, Sherlock? When we had run all the back here from that nice Italian restaurant, and we collapsed against the wall downstairs?” John asked, a twinkle in his eyes. Emma knew he was teasing and that it was working when Sherlock’s mask slipped for a second, before he managed to compose himself.

“Of course, I remember, John.”, Sherlock smiled, as he began to stroke his hand slightly further up Lance’s thigh.

“Are you staying for dinner? Tonight, is our takeaway night, so you’d be more than welcome to.”, John asked Lance.

“Only if I’m not imposing.”, Lance said.

“Of course, not. Any friend of Sherlock’s is a friend of ours, right, Em?”, John smiled, emphasising the word friend.

“Hmm? Oh, yeah.”, Emma replied, smiling a little, before going back to her university work. “Uncle John, can you help me with this? It’s Wilfred Owen and I want your insight on it, since you actually went to war.”, Emma asked, deciding she needing to distract John from the love nest that was residing on the sofa.

“Yeah, of course I can, chick. I’ll just grab a drink first. Do you want another can of coke?”, John asked. The cans of coke had started to become a part of his shopping when Emma had moved in.

“Please.”, she smiled, before going back to highlighting.

Luckily, Emma was sat with her back to the sofa, so John simply pulled up a chair, next to her, once he had got their drinks, and began to read through the poems Emma was looking at. After five minutes, Rosie didn’t like that she wasn’t getting any attention from her Dad or Papa, so climbed up onto John’s knee and watched her cartoons from there. She even shared her Dad’s glass of water, with a little help from John. Unbeknownst to the three of them, Sherlock was only partially listening to what Lance was saying, and was watching his little family, in their little bubble. He hated having to be in a fake relationship with Lance, knowing it was going to put a strain on his family. He wished to be sat with them, helping Emma with her work, and snuggling up to both John and Rosie. That, however, was long way off, if the case, so far, was anything to go off. Both Sherlock and Greg had been struggling with Lance, and it looked as though it might be a long one.

“So, Emma… What do you think to the latest addition of the English department? Mark Graves isn’t it?”, Lance asked her, about half an hour later.

“Oh, yeah. I mean, to be fair, his lectures are probably my favourite lectures of the week. His lessons are engaging, and he gives us chance to discuss our ideas, rather than just preaching at us, which is always nice.”, Emma replied, honestly.

“That’s good. Quite dishy too.”, Lances commented.

“I mean, even my straight friend, George said he would. But, I’m not really into that whole silver-haired fox thing.”, Emma said. At that, John had to stifle a laugh, but covered it with a cough, masterfully.

“Me neither. I prefer brunettes.”, Lance said looking to Sherlock, who simply looked back at him, pretending to be shy. Lance then kissed Sherlock’s lips, softly and quickly, causing Sherlock to flush red, which was genuine. John saw but didn’t say anything. He, instead, began to sing along with Moana, with Rosie, which was what she had decided to watch after her cartoons had finished. It made Rosie giggle, as John bounced her up and down on his knee singing ‘Make Way’. Emma laughed too, with Rosie’s giggle being infectious.

“Emma! Dance with me!”, Rosie grinned, as she jumped off her Dad’s knee.

“Okay, okay, bambino…”, Emma smiled, rolling her eyes a little.

John then moved to sit in his armchair, so he had a better view of his daughter jumping around and Emma jumped around with Rosie, singing along and laughing with her.

“I can see why you won’t move out, Sherlock.”, Lance said, smiling.

“Well, John is my best friend and we co-parent with Rosie. Plus, it is so close to Regent’s Park. And Emma and Mrs Hudson, who you met downstairs, are always on hand when we need to run off for a case. It’s just convenient.”, Sherlock replied, watching John warily, but John didn’t flinch. He simply let it seem like he was ignoring their conversation, but inside he felt like his heart was being stamped on. Sherlock leave Baker Street? If England would fall when Mrs Hudson left, what would happen if Sherlock Holmes left Baker Street? John didn’t even want to think about it. John could see that Emma was doing her best to ignore the conversation too, but could see the pull at her eyebrows, indicating the beginnings of a frown. Emma had always been betrayed by her face, when it came to how she was feeling. She had been that way ever since she was little. Rosie was exactly the same.

When Moana finished, and the food was ordered but hadn’t quite arrived yet, Rosie was stood in between John’s legs, whilst he read a couple of emails about smaller cases. Emma had gone downstairs to put her stuff away and get into the clothes she saved for lounging around in. Rosie was glaring at Lance.

“Daddy… I need the toilet.”, Rosie announced. Sighing a little, John put his phone down.

“I’ll take her, if you want.”, Sherlock offered.

“No, Papa. I want Daddy to take me.”, Rosie told him, still glaring. That caused Sherlock to swallow, before nodding and settling back into the sofa, next to Lance.

“Come on then, little bee.”, John said, picking Rosie up, and placing her on his hip, walking her to the bathroom.

As soon as the bathroom door was shut, Rosie let out a large sigh.

“What’s the matter, little bee?”, John asked his daughter, kneeling at her height, knowing full well what was wrong with her, but he wanted her to tell him.

“I don’t like that man, Daddy. He has stolen Papa.”, Rosie told him, looking as if she was about to cry.

“Oh, no, little bee… He hasn’t stolen Papa. Don’t you worry.”, John said, pulling his daughter into his chest as the tears began to fall down her cheeks.

“I don’t want Papa to leave.”, Rosie said, sniffling into John’s shoulder.

“I’m sure he won’t.”, John said, realising that she must have picked up on Lance’s comment about Sherlock leaving Baker Street. “Anyway, you heard what he said. He won’t leave you, little bee. Don’t worry.”

“But I thought you and Papa would get married.”, Rosie told him, still crying.

“Oh, Rosie…”, John sighed, as he too couldn’t stop the tears from falling. “I love you, poppet. And Papa does too. Don’t ever think he doesn’t.”

“I love you and Papa too, Daddy.”, Rosie said, as she wiped a few tears from John’s face, with a small smile. The tears, for Rosie, had subsided, but she was still sniffling slightly. “I really need a wee now, Daddy.”, she added, making John chuckle a little.

“Come on, then.”, John smiled, helping his daughter up onto her special seat.

When they had finished in the bathroom, after John made sure there were no visible traces that either of them had been crying, they went back into the living room.

When they got there, Emma was curled up in Sherlock’s arm chair, in her pyjamas and a baggy hoodie, sporting her glasses (which she only wore towards the end of the day when her contacts began to annoy her). Sherlock and Lance were nowhere to be seen, but Sherlock’s bedroom door was shut, so John figured they must be in there.

“You two okay?”, Emma asked, placing her bookmark in her book, and placing it next to her on the chair.

“We’ve had a chat, and a little cry, but we’re okay now.”, John smiled, softly. He knew he wouldn’t be able to hide it from Emma. He knew she was worried about him.

“Okay.”, Emma replied, simply, smiling a little, before Rosie climbed up onto her knee and snuggled in.

“What do you want to watch next, bambino?”, Emma asked, picking up the telly remote.

“Nothing too long because as soon as you have eaten, little bee, it is bath and then bed.”, John told her.

“Erm… Can we watch Horrible Histories?”, Rosie asked, causing Emma to grin. She was glad that she had managed to get Rosie to like history.

“Yeah. That’s fine with me. I don’t actually mind it.”, John smiled, before Emma nodded and pulled it up on her Netflix account, which had been adopted by 221B. Much like her subscriptions to Disney Plus and Britbox also had. She didn’t mind, however. She was glad that they were getting their monies worth of the services.

When the food arrived, Sherlock and Lance emerged from Sherlock’s room, with Sherlock wearing an old t-shirt and his pyjama bottoms, with his signature blue dressing gown, and Lance was wearing a t-shirt and pair of shorts. The pair of them were also sporting very swollen, red lips, but no comments were made. As they ate, Emma, John and Rosie kept most of their attention on the telly, with them laughing occasionally as Emma sang along to the songs, whilst Sherlock and Lance spoke and laughed in hushed tones, as they fed each other bits of food.

Just before a bath was due, Rosie began to get restless.

“Lance is staying over tonight, John. If that is okay?”, Sherlock asked.

“Yeah, that’s fine.”, John smiled.

“Can I have a sleepover with Emma?”, Rosie asked, quickly.

“I mean, it’s fine with me if Daddy and Papa say it’s okay. I don’t have any lectures tomorrow. I do have an essay to write, but I can whack that out in a couple of hours in the afternoon.”, Emma said, knowing the little girl really wasn’t feeling comfortable with Lance being around.

“I mean, yeah. That’s fine with me.”, John said, his eyes conveying to Emma that he was thankful. “Sherlock?”, he added.

“Er, yeah. That’s fine, Rosie-bear. But you still have to have a bath and be good.”, Sherlock replied.

“I’m always good for Emma, Papa.”, Rosie grinned, which caused the adults to chuckle a little.

“Alright then, bambino… Say night to Daddy, Papa and Lance.”, Emma told the little girl, who looked at her, a little scared. Emma simply gave her a little nod of reassurance, before Rosie approached Sherlock. She gave Sherlock a big hug and a kiss, which made him look relieved. She then gave John an even bigger hug, whispering, “It will be okay, Daddy”, to him as she did so. She then stood at the door to the stairs and said goodnight to Lance, somewhat reluctantly, before Emma picked her up and carried her downstairs.

On the way past, Emma knocked on Mrs Hudson’s door, and the pair were let in immediately.

“Oh, Emma… How’s John?”, Mrs Hudson asked, looking worried. They had filled Mrs Hudson in on the case, so she didn’t start asking who the strange man Sherlock was bringing around was, and why Greg was no longer popping in with cases or for a cup of tea with Mycroft.

“I’ll fill you in on everything. Rosie didn’t want to stay upstairs, so is staying with me for the night. Care to join for bath and bedtime?”, Emma asked, hoping Mrs Hudson would go with her so she could fill her in whilst she sorted out the little girl, who she could see was getting tired.

“Of course, dear.”, Mrs Hudson smiled, before letting Emma lead the way into her flat.

Emma and Mrs Hudson bathed and got Rosie to bed with little fuss from the young girl, and then sat in Emma’s living room with a cup of tea, whilst Emma filled Mrs Hudson in on what had happened.

“Oh, poor John. And poor Sherlock. It must be so hard for both of them.”, Mrs Hudson said, looking distraught.

“And Rosie doesn’t want anything to do with Lance. She really doesn’t like him. Uncle John doesn’t know that I heard their conversation in the bathroom, though, so don’t let on that you know. It broke my heart to hear them both crying at the thought of Sherlock moving out of Baker Street to be with that man.”, Emma said.

“He never would. Case, or not. Sherlock Holmes would never leave John Watson behind.”, Mrs Hudson said.

“He has done it before, though, Mrs H. And both Sherlock and John know that. It is going to be a tough one, this. And I have a feeling it is going to last longer than they wanted it to. Let’s face it… It’s been going on for over a week now and they haven’t got a thing.”

“Hopefully something will happen quickly. You know, I saw Mycroft this afternoon. He was actually having to do some shopping because of Greg being so busy, and he looked lost. It is taking its toll on everyone.”, Mrs Hudson said.

“We’ll get there. I mean, the Baker Street Boys always do, don’t they?”, Emma smiled.

“They do. But this might be the toughest one yet.”, Mrs Hudson replied, before finishing her cup of tea and making her goodbyes. She needed to take her herbal soother, for her hip.

Emma sighed, as she washed the cups that she and Mrs Hudson had just used and let her mind wander to her Uncle John. She was so worried about him. She had never seen him like that before. It was like Mrs Hudson had described Mycroft. Her Uncle John was lost. Just as she finished putting away the pots she had just washed and dried, a familiar little girl stood at the door to the kitchen, her stuffed toy in her hand.

“Can’t sleep, bambino?”, Emma asked, as she picked up the little girl. Too tired to speak, Rosie simply just shook her head. “Want to stay in my bed with me?”, Emma questioned. Rosie simply nodded, before cuddling closer into Emma’s side.

“Okay, bambino…”, Emma sighed, knowing that the day they’d just had was not going to even come close to the next few weeks on the scale of damage done.

Rosie seemed to settle quickly, once she was curled up next to Emma. Emma was glad, as she didn’t think she would have the energy to stay up with the little girl all night, if she couldn’t settle. The next morning, Emma fed Rosie some breakfast, and made sure she had heard Lance leaving the building, before taking Rosie back upstairs.

“Morning.”, Emma smiled, as Rosie ran into the living room. The tension in the room could be cut with a knife.

“Emma, could you please tell Sherlock that if he is going to be shagging his boyfriend at three o’clock in the morning, that gags exist for a reason?”, John spat out, annoyed.

“Emma, please could you reply to that, from John, by saying I have had to put up with it for years with his hundreds of girlfriends, so what is the difference?”, Sherlock spat in reply.

Rosie then began to cry, hugging her arms to herself. Emma went to the little girl, and pulled her close, feeling really bad for her.

“I am going to go upstairs, with Rosie, and dress her. You two need to sort this out. Now. We can’t live like this for however long. Rosie is scared to bloody be here.”, Emma said, showing her anger, but trying not to raise her voice, because she didn’t want to frighten Rosie any more. She then did as she said, taking Rosie upstairs, leaving Sherlock and John in shock, at the realisation that they were upsetting their daughter.

For a moment, the two men sat in silence, neither of them wanting to be the one to speak first. However, Sherlock broke first, sighing.

“John, I am sorry, but you know that I need to keep up appearances. It is such an important case.”, Sherlock said.

“I know that, Sherlock. I know. What I don’t like is the effect it is having on our daughter. She shouldn’t have to feel, at the age of three, that she can’t sleep in her own bed, in her own flat, because of some strange man who is permanently attached to her Papa.”, John replied.

“I’m sorry, John. I never meant to upset Rosie in any way. You must know that.”

“Of course, I know that. But yesterday, I had Rosie crying on me, in the bathroom, because she thought her Papa was going to leave her.”

“I never would.”

“You have left me behind before for a case, Sherlock. What’s different this time?”, John asked. Sherlock didn’t reply, simply looking like a deer in the headlights of an oncoming car.

“Now, we are going to act like nothing is wrong, for the sake of that little girl. She has already lost her mother and she is scared shitless that is going to lose her Papa too. And that, Sherlock, is not going to happen. You need to reassure her that you’re not going anywhere. It is all well and good me telling her, but it needs to come from you. You need to explain to her that you are still there for her but that, sometimes, you will be spending time with Lance, because he is your boyfriend.”, John all-but ordered.

Sherlock, once again, didn’t say anything. He simply nodded. He decided he was going to have to pay a visit to Mycroft. He needed to talk to him about how he felt. Mycroft understood him the most. He couldn’t talk to Emma, because he knew she was angry with him. He needed to talk to someone, however. He felt like he was going to explode. Having to act like he liked Lance was hard enough, without having to put up with being intimate with him, having to deal with the rift it was causing to his family, and how it was only magnifying his feelings for John, when John brought up old cases and referred to Lance as his friend, after making sure Lance knew that he was his best friend. Sherlock had also been thrown when it came to the way Emma was reacting. He thought that she would understand more, but it was clear than her concern for her cousin was overriding her rational thinking and over-taking it. He also knew that Emma had been the one to deal with Rosie, when he had scared her away by bringing Lance into the flat. And he couldn’t quite believe that Rosie had thought he was going to leave. He vowed to himself, in that moment, that he would never let Rosie think or feel that again, if he could help it.

A few moments later, Emma and Rosie came back downstairs.

“Rosie-bear… Can I talk to you?”, Sherlock asked his daughter.

Nodding, Rosie happily climbed up onto his knee, clearly glad that Lance was no longer present.

“So, I just want you to know that I am never going to leave, yeah? I would never be able to leave you, or Daddy, or Emma, or Mrs Hudson… Sometimes, I might not be at home, because I might be having a sleepover at Lance’s house, but I promise that, when I am at home, I will make every effort to prove to you that I am not going anywhere. I love you so much. I love all of you so much. I could never leave you.”, Sherlock told the little girl, as tears began to slide down his cheeks. Rosie nodded, smiling, seemingly satisfied with what her Papa had just told her. It hadn’t gone unnoticed, by Emma, however, how Sherlock had been looking more at John, rather than Rosie, when he had said ‘I love you so much’. Emma knew that Sherlock was scared. The man he had to pretend to be in love with was dangerous, and was putting a rift through his family, as well as pushing away the man Sherlock truly did love.

“I’ll, er, leave you to it. I have some work I need to get done.”, Emma said, before turning to head downstairs.

“Em… Wait. Thanks for looking after Rosie last night, when she needed comfort. I, uh, we massively appreciate it.”, John said. Emma simply nodded in reply before heading downstairs.


	8. Chapter 8

For the next two weeks, there was very little change. Lance stayed over at Baker Street a few more times, and there were nights when Sherlock stayed over at his, but when he was at home, Sherlock spent every possible second, he could with Rosie. Emma was happy with Greg as a teacher, as an essay she written for him had come back graded as a First, and when she had asked Mycroft about it, he had told her that they struggled to find anything wrong with it. Emma was glad she was doing so well and was glad that she wasn’t being given special treatment. She had Lucy, George and Jess over a few times, to study and have film nights and the such. John seemed to be coping better, glad that on the nights that Sherlock was at home, without Lance, that Sherlock was being extra attentive to both him and Rosie. On more than one occasion, Emma had walked into the living room, after Rosie had been put to bed, to find John and Sherlock touching in some way. They were either sat in their armchairs, with their feet meeting in the middle, or, on one more memorable occasion, Sherlock was lay on the sofa, with his head on John’s lap, as John read and subconsciously played with Sherlock’s curls. John had tried to tell her that he had been sat there first, but she simply gave him a look, which caused John to roll his eyes at her and chuckle.

They had seemed to get into a routine with it all. That is until George showed up to a lecture, one afternoon, without Lucy, and Emma began to panic. Luckily, they had Greg, so Emma could do something about it quickly. None of them had heard off Lucy all day, and she had a lecture with Lance, due to her choosing media as one of her modules, that morning. Emma knew, when George showed up alone, that there something wrong. She knew the code she needed to tell Greg. It was just finding a moment to tell him. Luckily, as she walked into the room, she was able to mutter “Lucy, Vatican cameos”, as she walked past him. He nodded slightly, to show he had got the message.

“Sorry, guys… I just have to make a quick phone call before the start of class today. I missed one from my Doctor’s earlier. Just talk amongst yourselves… I won’t be long.”, ‘Mark’ told his class, before slipping out into the corridor, presumably to ring Mycroft or Sherlock.

“Do you think Lucy is okay?”, Jess asked. “Even if she doesn’t message with words, she usually sends memes into the group chat.”

“I’m sure she’s fine. She’s probably just ill and isn’t able to get in contact because she is sleeping it off.”, George offered.

“Yeah. Probably.”, Emma nodded, hoping it was that she was just ill, and that Lance hadn’t got to her. Emma didn’t know if she would be able to forgive herself if something happened to her friend, that she knew about and could have prevented.

Greg then entered the room and the class started. He seemed unfazed by what he had clearly just had to deal with and took the class like he had been doing for the previous three weeks. Emma did her best to concentrate but couldn’t due to worrying about Lucy. She knew that people were being taken but it didn’t fully hit her until someone she knew was potentially in danger. She was just glad of the precautions and things in place that meant it could be dealt with quickly, with having her and Greg on the inside and Sherlock on him from the outside. She couldn’t help but feel petrified. She barely spoke through the whole lecture, which Greg noticed, but he didn’t say anything to her directly.

On the way out of her lesson, her phone buzzed, and she pulled it out immediately.

There is a car waiting for you outside the main entrance. Get in it and wait for Greg. Will explain more once you arrive at my office – MH

Okay. Thanks, Mycie – Em x

“I have got to go guys… Family stuff. I’ll, er, catch up with you when I can.”, Emma announced to her friends, before running to the main entrance and climbing into the car that she knew Mycroft had sent. His assistant was stood outside of it, waiting for her. She climbed in and waited, knowing that Greg would have to wait at least ten minutes before climbing into the same car as she had, to avoid suspicion. As she waited, she began to panic more and more. By the time Greg climbed into the back of the car, she was a wreck.

“Em… Hey. Listen. You did the right thing and we’re sorting it. Try not to worry too much.”, Greg said, putting his arm around her, trying to comfort her a little. Emma snuggled into his side and let herself cry, due to not knowing what was happening to her friend. Greg simply just let her cry as they drove towards Mycroft’s office in Whitehall. Emma, once they arrived, had calmed a little. She had stopped crying, but she was still shaking a little, and she let Greg guide her through the maze of offices and rooms of the building which Mycroft’s office resided in.

Once in the office, they were greeted by Mycroft and John, who was already there. Upon seeing Emma, John immediately opened his arms and she fell into them for a hug.

“Now we are all here, let’s get to it. Sherlock is currently with Lance, playing the role of dutiful boyfriend. Sherlock knows the situation, but Lance is not showing anything suspicious, according to Sherlock, apart from him being late for their ‘date’ at lunchtime. Lucy has been seen on CCTV entering university and was not seen leaving. We know she had Lance this morning for her media lecture, so it is good that we had Emma on hand to tell us she wasn’t there…”, Mycroft said, smiling a little.

“What can we do?”, Emma asked.

“There is nothing we can do but wait, I’m afraid. Sherlock is obviously working on it and we are working on trying to find Lucy before it is too late.”, Mycroft said.

“And what do I tell my friends? They are worried too.”, Emma asked.

“You can tell them the truth, but it needs to be contained and they can’t get involved in any way, do you understand?”, Mycroft said, firmly. Emma simply nodded.

“Come on, Em… Let’s get you home.”, John said, placing a hand on his on Emma’s shoulder and leading her out of the office.

Emma let herself be led out of the building again. She didn’t miss the quick kiss Greg placed on his partner’s lips, before following behind them. Greg had to get back to the university, as he had an evening seminar to teach, and Mycroft was staying at his office, in case any developments came through, or something else came up. Emma felt slightly numb but sent out a message to George and Jess to meet her at her flat the next day, after their lectures, so she could fill them in on the situation. John led her upstairs to 221B, rather than leaving her in her own flat, and made them both a cup of tea. Emma hadn’t said anything since Mycroft’s office and John was getting worried. He knew, that to keep the plan going, that Sherlock would probably bring Lance back to Baker Street, and he was seriously worried that Emma would either blow it by going mad at Lance, or would throw herself into his path, in order to try and get to Lucy even quicker. The issue was that John wasn’t sure Lance would be stupid enough to target Emma, due to her being so close to Sherlock, who was undercover to an extent but was still Sherlock Holmes, the great detective. Then again, from some of the comments Lance had made, when John had been sat in the living room with him and Sherlock, he could see he was in above his head. Lance was going to slip up sooner, or later. John was sure of it.

“If he comes in here, Uncle John, I am going to have to try and get him to take me too.”, Emma finally said.

“I thought you might say that, but you can’t, Em… It’s too dangerous.”, John warned.

“But, don’t you see, Uncle John? I can help… I could have a wire, or a tracker, or just something so that, when he does take me, you’ll know where I am. They won’t be expecting it.”, Emma insisted.

The front door opened and closed, indicating Sherlock was home, and that he wasn’t alone.

“Please, don’t do anything stupid.”, John pleaded, before Sherlock and Lance appeared in the living room, laughing at something clearly hilarious. Emma tensed a little, before relaxing and taking on the persona she had been using in Lance’s presence from the beginning.

“Hi. Have a nice day?”, Emma asked the pair, smiling.

“Yeah, we had lunch out after I taught this morning and then we spent some time, er, at my flat.”, Lance smiled in reply.

“You can just say you were shagging, you know. I’m not a child.”, Emma giggled. Sherlock flushed massively red and Lance chuckled uncomfortably. “If I was shagging the world’s greatest detective, I would not hesitate, for one second, to tell anyone who would listen.”, she added.

“Any plans for Christmas?”, Lance asked, wanting to change the topic.

“Er, Mum is spending it with her new beau and his family, for the first time… I was going to see if I could stay here for Christmas. I don’t want to meet him for the first time at Christmas. I think Mum is planning on bringing him down after New Year.”, Emma explained.

“So, you’re going to be on your own for Christmas?”, Lance asked.

“No. She will be spending it with us.”, John said, giving Emma a smile, knowing she was finding her Mum’s new relationship something hard to deal with, especially with it having been just her and her Mum for so long. And he wasn’t going to let Lance take that away.

“Thanks Uncle John.”, Emma smiled.

“With you and Rosie, yeah? It’s just that I had asked if Sherlock would spend Christmas with me and he said yes.”, Lance said, looking directly at John, like he knew he was getting to him.

“Well, yes then. Me, Em and Rosie will be just fine on our own.”, John said, collecting Emma’s empty tea mug from the table, and taking them into the kitchen. Lance looked smug, and a little pleased with himself, whilst Sherlock looked like he had just been kicked in the stomach. He had gone pale and looked as though he was going to throw up.

“I am going to go and check that Molly had no trouble with bambino.”, Emma smiled, having heard Molly go into Mrs Hudson’s flat, downstairs, with Rosie, after having picked her up from nursery.

With it being nearly December, and therefore nearly Christmas, Rosie was getting more and more excited, and she knew that she would devastated when she found out that Sherlock, potentially wouldn’t be there for Christmas.

“Knock, knock…”, Emma said, entering Mrs Hudson’s flat.

“Hey, Em… I heard about earlier. Greg told me. How are you doing?”, Molly asked, wincing slightly.

“I am alright, considering. But Lance is currently upstairs and has just told John that Sherlock is spending Christmas with him…”, Emma told the two women.

Luckily, they were stood in the kitchen, and Rosie was preoccupied in the living room. She was reading a simple book aloud to herself, whilst a Disney playlist played in the background.

“John can’t have been happy with that.”, Mrs Hudson commented.

“He wasn’t, and Lance knows that… Tonight is going to be a tough one. But I am cooking so, Mol, feel free to stay for dinner. Mrs H, you’re invited too, but I know tonight is your book club, so you’ll end up graciously declining. I only wish Greg and Mycie could join. It’ll give you a proper insight on how it’s all been.”, Emma said.

“I would be honoured to stay for dinner, Em. I was only going to go home and order takeout, anyway.”, Molly smiled.

“Good. You can help me.”, Emma smiled. “Bambino! Time to go home! And Auntie Molly is staying for dinner!”

“Yay!”, Rosie grinned, running into the kitchen, her book in her hand and a big grin.

“Come on, then… Let’s go upstairs. Thanks, Mrs H. Have a nice time at book club.”, Emma grinned, before picking Rosie up, and Molly followed them up the stairs to 221B.

“Daddy! Papa! I’m home!”, Rosie announced, running into the living room, before she had seen Lance. “Oh. Hi Lance.”

“Hi, Rosie.”, Lance smiled, but Rosie was not interested.

“Thanks for picking her up from nursery, Mol. You staying for dinner? Em is cooking.”, John asked. He seemed to have calmed down, since having been in the kitchen.

“Yeah, Em already asked. And, it was my pleasure.”, Molly said, flinging her arm around Emma’s shoulder and pulling her into a side hug. The pair of them, and Mrs Hudson, had kind of become a Baker Street support group, especially in the current climate they were in. The case was affecting and taking its toll on everyone. Their mad little Baker Street Irregulars gang. And Lance was an outsider, who (no matter what he did) would never be an insider. The two women got to work on preparing dinner, whilst John helped Rosie to read, and Lance and Sherlock took their usual spot on the sofa, as they always did when he was over. Sherlock wasn’t really listening to Lance, though. He was watching his daughter reading, at the age of three, with delight.

“Sherl? Didn’t you hear what I said?”, Lance asked.

“Sorry, babe. Was distracted by my amazing daughter.”, Sherlock smiled at Rosie, who was beaming at him.

“I mean, she’s not really your daughter, is she?”, Lance scoffed. Rosie looked at the man with spite and growled.

“He might not be my biological Dad, but it doesn’t mean he isn’t my Papa. Dick head.”, Rosie shouted.

“Rosie!”, John exclaimed, proud of his daughter, but shocked at her language.

“Papa will always be my Papa. Even if he dies like Mama. He will always be my Papa.”, Rosie said, looking at Sherlock directly, who looked like he was about to cry.

“It seems I stand corrected.”, Lance said, awkwardly.

“Yes, you do.”, John agreed, smiling at his daughter, so proud of how clever she was.

The flat then went quiet, except for the noises coming from the kitchen, by Molly and Emma. They had pretended they hadn’t heard anything, but discretely high-fived when Rosie said what she had said.

Rosie then popped into the kitchen and asked, “Emma… Can you sing for me?”

“Er… Sure. I mean, I normally only sing at bedtime, but what do you want to hear?”, Emma asked, putting the veg she had just finished chopping into a pan on the hob.

“Beauty and the Beast.”, Rosie smiled.

“Of course.”, Emma grinned. Beauty and the Beast was quickly becoming one of Rosie’s favourites, after she had watched one afternoon when Emma was looking after her, after Emma had told her they weren’t watching Moana for the 8th day in a row.

Emma picked Rosie up and began singing, waltzing her around the room. Emma was a phenomenal singer, and Sherlock grinned as he watched her swing his daughter around, who was giggling, as she sang. Sherlock then had an idea. He got up and moved towards John’s chair.

“Can I have this dance?”, Sherlock asked John, holding out his hand to him.

“For old time’s sake, yeah? Let’s see if I can remember everything you taught me.”, John grinned, taking Sherlock’s hand, and letting himself be pulled up into the taller man’s arms.

Once she made sure the food would be okay, Molly stood, leaning against the kitchen door, and watching the scene with a smile. She decided that it would be perfect, if Lance wasn’t there. Lance didn’t seem particularly happy as Sherlock brought John close to him and led him around the room but knew he couldn’t do anything about it. Both Sherlock and John looked like lovesick teenagers who were dancing together for the first time, chuckling as John accidentally stepped on Sherlock’s toes. And Emma just kept singing. Rosie seemed delighted to see her Father’s dancing with each other, too. Molly took a quick picture and sent it to Greg, with her being the only one who was allowed to be in contact with him (apart from Mycroft) so that his cover would not be blown.

Lance suddenly stood and said, “Babe… I’m going to have to leave tonight. Just remembered that I said I’d meet an old friend.”

Sherlock stopped twirling John around the room but didn’t let go of his blogger. “That’s a shame. Text me, yeah? And we can rearrange.”

“Of course.”, Lance smiled, walking over and placing a long kiss to Sherlock’s lips, right in front of John’s face. Sherlock didn’t really respond, however, which didn’t go unnoticed by John, which made him smile a little bit.

“Bye, all.”, Lance said, before leaving the flat. Once the front door was shut, everyone seemed to let out a sigh they hadn’t realised they were holding. Sherlock and John were still clinging onto each other.

“That doesn’t sound good.”, John said.

“Don’t worry. I planted a tracking device inside him.”, Sherlock grinned.

“How did you manage that?”, Emma exclaimed. “Actually, don’t answer that… I don’t wanna know.”, she added, images she was not wanting to see flicking through her mind. John then pulled away from Sherlock, clearing his throat, and took Rosie from Emma’s arms.

“Well, at least we can have a quiet family dinner without having to worry too much.”, John smiled at Rosie, who beamed back, happier that Lance was no longer present.

“Curly… Can you answer me one thing?”, Emma asked, after noticing the way Sherlock was holding himself.

“Yes.”, Sherlock said, looking confused.

“Where did he hit you?”, Emma questioned, causing John to look at Sherlock, his eyes going wide.

“Sherlock? He’s been hitting you?”, John asked, angry. He placed Rosie on the floor and rushed to Sherlock’s side. Sherlock had collapsed into his armchair, with a sigh, his head in his hands.

“You’re more perceptive than I give you credit for, Em.”, Sherlock said, quietly.

“I’ll take Rosie downstairs for a bit. Is yours open, Em?”, Molly asked, picking up the little girl. Emma just nodded in reply and the three of them watched as Molly and Rosie left the room. Rosie didn’t ask what was happening, but they could all tell from her face that she was concerned.

“Okay, Sherlock… Where?”, John asked.

“There a couple of cigarette burns he inflicted on the tops of my thighs last week, but this afternoon he, er… Well he punched me repeatedly in the gut because I told him that I was going to ask you both if could adopt you, Emma, so you have a next of kin whilst you’re is in London.”, Sherlock admitted.

“Oh, Sherlock…”, John sighed, pulling Sherlock’s face towards his own, and pressing his forehead against his. “Can I take a look? I need to check your ribs.”, he then asked, after a moment, pulling away and taking hold of Sherlock’s hand instead.

“I’ll go…”, Emma said, starting to leave.

“No, Em… Stay. Please?”, Sherlock asked. Emma simply nodded and dragged a chair, so it was next to Sherlock’s armchair, and took hold of his other hand. The only time Emma let go was when Sherlock had to take off his shirt, so John could examine the damage. For the rest of the time, she held onto his hand, tight, wanting to show him that she was there.

Sherlock winced as John pressed into his torso, checking for any damage. John looked so angry, when faced with the bruises that had already formed on Sherlock’s pale body. Emma wanted to cry. He had taken that beating because Lance didn’t like her involvement in Sherlock’s little family and, in that moment, she knew that she was going to be targeted next. She didn’t say anything, however. She decided she would ring Mycroft, once everyone else was in bed, and sort out plans so that, if she was taken, that Sherlock and John would be able to find her.

“Well, there are no broken ribs, as far as I can tell, but there is definitely some heavy internal bruising. So, no pushing things too far, Sherlock.” John warned, as Sherlock began to pull his shirt back on.

“So, I am guessing that means no sex, right?”, Sherlock asked, causing John to stand away from Sherlock, with his back to him.

“You know, different people class different things as sex.”, Emma pointed out, with a small smile.

“Em, shouldn’t you check on the food?”, John asked, clearly a little irritated.

“Nope.”, she grinned, which annoyed him more.

“She’s right, you know. The most we have done is wank each other off, John.”, Sherlock said, rather straight to the point.

“But all of the shagging noises and all of the hickeys.”, John said, looking confused.

“He had to believe I wanted him. I just told him I can’t do anything with penetration because I don’t believe in it, which is what got me the burns.”, Sherlock admitted, wincing slightly at the mention of the abuse he had been put through.

“So, you haven’t shagged him?”, John asked.  
“No, John. Do you really think I would want to have sex with that? God, give me strength. He isn’t my type.”, Sherlock smirked.

“And what is your type?”, John asked, smiling a little

  
“I can answer that!”, Emma grinned, raising her hand. Just then, the timer that had been set for the dinner went off, interrupting the moment, causing Emma to groan. Molly and Rosie also were on their way back upstairs, having smelt the food.

“So?”, Molly asked Emma, as they plated up the food they had prepared.

“So near yet so far…”, Emma sighed, in reply.

“They’re useless… We’re never going to get them together at this rate.”, Molly sighed. Molly Hooper, despite having loved Sherlock Holmes for years, had come to accept that Sherlock Holmes would never be hers because his heart belonged to another. A certain Doctor John Watson.

“All I am saying is that it is nearly Christmas. And you can bet your ass that I am going to be bulk buying mistletoe. That’ll hopefully give them the message.”, Emma grinned.

At dinner, Sherlock sat close to John, even flinging his arm around the back of his blogger’s chair when he’d finished eating. John thanked the girls for making the dinner, which prompted Sherlock to thank them too, and Sherlock insisted he was going to do the washing up, due to not having contributed to the meal in anyway. Rosie enjoyed the meal, too, but was soon looking sleepy. Emma and Molly, after dinner, went downstairs and watched a film together, before Molly went off home, and John bathed Rosie, as Sherlock washed up. Once Sherlock had finished washing up, he joined John and Rosie in Rosie’s room for story time, before Rosie fell asleep and the two men went downstairs.

John sat on one end of the sofa, reading the book he had started a few days earlier, whilst Sherlock busied himself in his bedroom, before emerging in his lounge wear and taking up his position lying across the sofa, with his head in John’s lap. John liked the new level of intimacy that they had reached but couldn’t help feeling the want for more. Little did he know that Sherlock was feeling the exact same thing.

John wanted to kill Lance for hurting Sherlock. He also wanted him to suffer the pain that he had caused on the poor students he had abducted, and their families. He just hoped that Lance would stay away from Emma, but knew that, because she was close to John (and it was clear Sherlock and John’s relationship caused envy in Lance) that Emma was in danger from the man. John began daydreaming, thinking about how nice it would be to retire to the country, where Sherlock could look after bees and take on local cases. Knowing their luck, however, they’d end up living in a village like the one’s in Midsomer Murders, where a murderer seems to run rampant every other week. Although, John figured that Sherlock would like that.

Sherlock’s phone beeped.

It is all well and good dancing with your Doctor, brother mine, but you need to be careful. – MH

Sherlock read it, making sure John didn’t see it, and sighed a little bit. He supposed he had been a little bit reckless by asking John to dance, in front of Lance, but he didn’t care. In that moment, all he wanted to do was hold John in his arms. What Sherlock hadn’t told anyone, however, was why he had begun to be beaten in the first place. It happened by accident but, one night, when he was engaging in certain activities with Lance. He had let John’s name be the one to slip from his lips, rather than Lance's. Lance had spanked him until he bled for that. Not that anyone questioned why he was sitting funny. They just assumed that they had been going at it a bit too much.


	9. Chapter 9

Once Molly had left, Emma rang Mycroft, and it was Greg who answered. He asked if she was okay, and she replied honestly, telling him about how worried she was for her friend. She also told him about how Lance had been abusing Sherlock, which really got Greg mad, until he learned that John had checked him over. He was still extremely angry but less than he had been due to the way that Sherlock had been checked over and was, on the whole, alright. She then began to discuss the possibility of putting herself in harm’s way, for the sake of her friend and the case, to which Greg shut down immediately.

“John would never forgive me if he knew I’d let you throw yourself into danger.”, Greg told her.

“But, please, Greg. I could help.”, Emma pleaded.

“I’m sorry, Em, but, no. It’s not going to happen. Now we have a tracker on him, thanks to Sherlock, we should get this over with before advent begins.”, Greg reassured her.

“Don’t be making promises you can’t keep. December is just over a week away.”, Emma said.

“I wouldn’t have said it if I wasn’t confident that we are going to nail this bastard and all have a nice, calm, quiet Christmas.”, Greg sighed. “And I can get back to the Yard.”

“But you’re my best lecturer!”, Emma giggled slightly, causing Greg to chuckle.

“It has been one of the nicest undercover jobs I have done, I’m not going to lie. But I am itching for a good murder scene.”, Greg said.

“Careful… That sounded distinctly Holmes-like.”, Emma jokingly warned.

“Well, it doesn’t help that I live with one and have to put up with the other.”, Greg chuckled. “Anyway, bedtime for both of us. I have lectures to teach tomorrow and you have lectures to attend.”

“Yeah. Night, Greg. And thanks.”

“Anytime, Em. Night, chick.”, Greg replied, before hanging up the phone.

Emma only hoped that Greg was right and that it would all be over with sooner rather than later. Instead of going to bed, she put Gavin and Stacey on telly and snuggled into her sofa, after having dragged her duvet and pillow into the living room. She didn’t think she was going to sleep very well, and she was right. At 5am the next morning, when she still hadn’t slept, she emailed her lecturers for that day, to tell them she wouldn’t be in class due to illness, and also text George and Jess to remind them to meet her later that day. She then got up, made herself a coffee and some toast and drank and ate them quietly. At half past 5, there was a knock on the door.

“Come in, Curly.”, she shouted through.

Sherlock came into the living room, and Emma lifted one end of her duvet, inviting Sherlock in, and he came and sat next to her.

“Couldn’t sleep either, huh?”, Emma asked him.

“I rarely can… I am worried that I have blown it, though, by keep mentioning John and by asking John to dance, and not Lance.”, Sherlock admitted. “And don’t tell anyone this but I may have shouted John’s name, instead of his, during the heat of the moment. That didn’t exactly go well.”

Emma took Sherlock’s hand and curled her fingers around his, trying to reassure him.

“It’s okay, Sherlock. I know Uncle John isn’t particularly happy about this situation, but I know that you aren’t either. I know that it’d be John in his place, if it could be. And you’re doing a good thing. Question though… How did you get the tracker in him if you’re not actually having sex?”, Emma asked.

“That is not being answered, I’m afraid.”, Sherlock chuckled a little.

“What did you mean? When you said about adopting me?”, Emma asked.

“I want you to have security. I mean, being with you being in London and your Mum being in Manchester, it’ll be difficult if anything happens and you need to be admitted to hospital and the such. And, well, we wouldn’t be allowed in to see you unless we were legally your family, so… It just seemed logical. And it would just be me who adopted you. You wouldn’t have to call me Dad or anything, but I, well, you’re important to me, Emma. I know we haven’t known each other that long, but you have wormed your way in and made me care about you.”, Sherlock smiled, stroking his thumb over the back of Emma’s hand. Emma had tears in her eyes and a big smile on her face.

“I’m guessing Mycie can sort it fairly easily?”, Emma asked.

“Yeah.”, Sherlock smiled. “That’s if it is okay with you, and it wouldn’t upset your Mum too much.”

“I think it’s a great idea. And Mum would honestly be overjoyed. I am 19 though… Is that not a problem?”, Emma questioned.

“Mycroft, whatever his lies about holding a minor occupation in the British government he tells, is the British government. He’ll be able to sort it. Plus, I am pretty sure that adult adoption is a thing.”, Sherlock smiled.

“Good. That’s good.”, Emma replied, yawning a little.

“You haven’t slept at all, have you?”, Sherlock asked, looking concerned.

“Nope. Coffee?”

“Please.”, Sherlock replied, letting go of Emma’s hand so she could make them both a coffee.

“Do you want any toast?”, Emma asked, from the kitchen.

“Only if you have marmalade.”

“Bought some in just for you.”, Emma replied.

Emma made the coffee and Sherlock’s toast in a bit of a daze, before joining Sherlock back in the living room.

“What is this drivel you’re watching?”, he asked, gesturing towards the telly, which was still playing Gavin and Stacey.

“It’s not drivel! It’s Gavin and Stacey… It’s fantastic.”, Emma smiled, taking up her place on the sofa.

“It can’t be. How can you like this mindless mundanity?”, Sherlock questioned, before taking a bite of his toast.

“Because it’s good. And Nessa is iconic.”, Emma replied, yawning again before taking a sip of her coffee.

“You need to sleep, Em. Even if it’s only for a couple of hours…”, Sherlock told her.

“I’ll be fine.”, Emma insisted.

Not 15 minutes later, Emma was leant against Sherlock, snoring lightly, which caused him to chuckle a little, before finding himself falling asleep too. John found them both there, at 8am, a few hours later. He took a picture and chuckled a little, before waking them both. Sherlock needed to go and see Lance and he thought Emma was going to her lectures, until she had explained that she’d emailed in sick. For the rest of the morning, John and Emma dropped Rosie off at nursery, and then decided to start on the Christmas shopping, both of them wanting to make it amazing for Rosie. The young girl was so excited and, with Christmas being one of Emma’s favourite times of year, Emma was more than happy to go all out with decorations, presents and Christmas tradition. They bought Rosie a few things from the Disney store, with Emma making sure that her present for Rosie, in particular, came from there. They then went down Oxford Street and Emma made John go into Lush with her whilst she treated herself to an array of bath bombs and lotions. She even bought some stuff for Lucy, that she was going to give her for Christmas. She was determined that she would be found and would be okay. Greg had said it would all be over soon, and she trusted his professional judgement. They mainly bought some things for Rosie, however, whilst on their shopping spree, and agreed to hide it all in the wardrobe of Emma’s spare room (just about the only room in the whole of 221 Baker Street that Rosie never entered).

Once they got back to Baker Street, they hid the presents in Emma’s flat, before eating a late lunch and having to go back out to pick Rosie up from nursery. Emma knew that it was bad that she had told her lecturers that she was ill, which is why she hadn’t been at her lessons that day, and she instead went Christmas shopping with her cousin, to get started on the holiday preparations. She didn’t care, however. She needed to be with someone, knowing she was feeling unsteady about what had happened to Lucy and that she was likely to be targeted next, to get back at Sherlock by hurting John.

“Hey, Bambino…”, Emma smiled, as Rosie ran out of the door of her nursery, and straight into her arms. Emma lifted her for a cuddle, with a smile.

“No hug for me, Rosie?”, John asked, with mock sadness, causing Rosie to throw herself at him with a giggle and smile.

“Where is Papa?”, Rosie asked John.

“I’m not sure, little bee. He might be at home when we get there, but then again he might be with Lance, so don’t get your hopes up.”, John told her, with a small smile, before putting her down. Rosie took one of John’s hands and one of Emma’s and skipped happily between them, humming Beauty and the Beast to herself.

“We haven’t seen Curly since this morning. Do you think he’s okay?”, Emma asked John, worrying about the amount of time Sherlock was spending with the man who was abusing him.

“I’m sure he’ll be fine, Em.”, John replied, trying to reassure himself as well as his cousin.

For the rest of the walk home, they chatted about various nonsense they had seen in the news, and Rosie babbled to them about the day she’d had and what she had been up to at nursery. When they got home, to Baker Street, it seemed that Sherlock was home, but he wasn’t alone.

Wanting to avoid any awkwardness, John asked, “Em, could we, er, possibly chill at yours for a bit?”

“Of course, you can.”, Emma smiled, also not wanting to go upstairs to 221B.

“Does Papa have a client?”, Rosie asked, confused as to why she was being led into Emma’s flat and not up the stairs to her own.

“Not exactly, Bambino… He is upstairs with Lance and Daddy is going to help me with some of my university work, so I thought that, maybe, you would like to choose something on Disney, or you could watch a bit of Horrible Histories?”, Emma smiled at the little girl.

“Oooooh. Yes please. Can I watch Horrible Histories please?”, Rosie asked.

“Coming right up.”, Emma said, pulling up Rosie’s request on her telly and leaving the little girl to it. She then joined John in the kitchen, who was helping himself to a coffee and some of Sherlock’s ginger nuts.

“He will go mad at me! He’ll think I’ve eaten them! And I am not taking the blame for that, John Hamish Watson!”, Emma chuckled, taking the packet off him and tapping his arm lightly.

“It’s okay… Tell him I ate them. That’ll shut him up.”, John smiled. “He always lets me share his biscuits, when I get to them before he has eaten them all, that is.”

“That’s because you’re special.”, Emma said.

“You are too, you know… He really is serious about adopting you.”, John told her, leaning back against the kitchen counter, with a half-eaten biscuit in on hand and a coffee in the other. There was a cup of tea next to him, which Emma picked up, with a nod.

“I know. We spoke about it this morning…”, Emma admitted.

“I’m worried about all of you. I’m worried that Sherlock will get hurt even more or get pulled into something even worse. I’m worried Lance will target you next. And I am worried for Greg. He hasn’t been undercover like this in a long time… He told me the other day. We had a rare phone call. We do it sometimes. We call it Holmes therapy.”, John told her.

“You two are practically in-laws already!”, Emma joked.

“Em… It’s bad enough coming from everyone else…”, John mock-groaned.

“Hmm, yeah. Well…”, Emma simply replied, raising an eyebrow

“Oh, come on, Em… He’s a genius who stores information in his brain like it’s a computer. I’m the kind of man who is happy when he finds a big crisp in a packet of Walkers.”, John chuckled.

“Yeah, it’s true. You are a bit of a dunce, aren’t you?”, Emma laughed.

“Emma Louise Parker! I’ll tell your Mother!”, John chuckled.

“You wouldn’t… Plus, she is busy with her fella and his kids, so you probably won’t get much out of her.”, Emma sighed, suddenly finding the contents of her cup very interesting.

“What’s he like? This Darren?”, John asked.

“He’s an average bloke. He’s an accountant. He has two kids. He shops at Tesco. He plays golf at the weekend, sometimes…”, Emma reeled off.

“Sounds like a boring tosser…”, John said, honestly.

“Exactly.”, Emma said, smiling a little. “But, he’s Mum’s boring tosser.”, Emma winced.

“Look, chick… I know it’s hard, but it’ll get easier, right? I mean, his kids might become like siblings to you.”, John said.

“I doubt it. They’re twins and they’re 5.”, Emma laughed.

“You get on just fine with Rosie, though…”, John pointed out.

“Yeah but she is my little cousin, who I babysit sometimes. That’s different. It’s always just been me and Mum.”, Emma replied.

“I know, chick… But I’d like to think that you class yourself as one of our lot, here? I mean, we all do. I can’t quite remember what it was like without you here. It is so much better, Em.”, John smiled.

“I’m glad… I love this mad little family. You. Sherlock. Rosie. Mrs H. Mol. Greg. Mycroft… I love it.”, Emma grinned.

“Good.”, John replied.

They then joined Rosie in the living room. Emma sat at her desk, with her work, and began looking at the work her lecturers had sent her from the lessons she had missed that day. John simply watched telly with his daughter, but he wasn’t really watching it. His eyes were glazed over. He was clearly lost in his thoughts but that didn’t matter. They sat there for about an hour. In a nice silence. That is until there was a mighty crash from upstairs and they all jumped in shock.  
“Oh my God… Sherlock.”, John said, his face ashen, before jumping up and racing towards the stairs.

“Okay, Rosie… I need you to go to Mrs Hudson and stay with her until either me, Daddy or Papa come for you. Do you understand?”, Emma urged.

Rosie nodded, tears welling in her eyes, but doing as she was told and making her way to Mrs Hudson’s flat, as Emma flew up the stairs to 221B. Emma was scared. She knew that Lance was a danger to Sherlock and knew he had already been hurt by him and she didn’t want him to be hurt further. She knew Sherlock could hold his own in a fight… Her Uncle John had told her stories about how Sherlock had taken on people twice his size in physical combat and come out on top. However, Sherlock had just let Lance hurt him. Whether that was because he needed to do it to make their relationship believable or whether because he felt like he deserved to be hurt, Emma didn’t know. She did know, however, that her Uncle John would kill Lance without a second thought if he thought Sherlock was in danger.  
When Emma got into 221B, the mirror, that had been attached to the wall above the fireplace, was smashed the bits, with glass littered all over the floor. Sherlock was lay on the sofa, with John leaning over him, talking to him, and checking him over. Lance was nowhere to be seen.

“Where’s Lance?”, Emma asked.

“He rushed past me on the stairs. I didn’t bother with him. Needed to make Sherlock was okay.”, John explained. “You need to ring an ambulance. He has glass stuck in his side and I don’t know how deep it goes so I don’t want to pull it out in case I do more harm than good.”

John was a lot calmer than she was expecting, but Emma nodded and rang for an ambulance quickly. She was glad she had kept Rosie away, what with there being so much glass everywhere and with her Papa being in the state he was in.


	10. Chapter 10

Once the ambulance was there, everything happened in bit of a blur. They let both John and Emma ride in the ambulance with him, whilst Mrs Hudson watched, with a crying Rosie on her hip, as the ambulance drove away. Emma was doing her best not to cry, especially when Sherlock reached for John’s hand as the paramedic injected his wound with something or other. Emma didn’t really know what it was.

A few hours later, after the glass had been removed and Sherlock had been stitched up in surgery, Emma was curled up at the foot of Sherlock’s bed dozing, in his private room (thanks to Mycroft) and John was sat in a chair next to him, his hand in Sherlock’s whilst Sherlock also dozed. Mycroft had been and gone. He had seen his brother was okay and was in safe hands, and then proceeded to make arrangements for 221B to be cleared off glass (and for the mirror to be replaced), before scuttling off again, muttering about the elections in one country or another. He had even arranged to pick Rosie up and look after her himself, promising to read her ‘The Hobbit’ with her. Mycroft secretly hoped that the addition of the little girl to his home, for a few hours, would entice Greg away from his work.

Sherlock woke slightly, with a groan. Being stabbed with glass didn’t hurt as much as being shot, but it still hurt. Well, it more ached.

“How are you feeling?”, John asked, giving him a small smile.

“Well, it hurts less than being shot.”, Sherlock smirked, chuckling a little.

“What happened?”, John questioned.

“He got a little rough.”, Sherlock said simply, looking down at John’s hand, which was intertwined with his own. He pulled it closer, holding it in both hands, and rested it on his lap.

“That’s not going to cut it, Sherlock, and you know it. What did that bastard do?”, John asked, getting annoyed.

“I told him that I had arranged to go through with adopting Emma. We spoke about it this morning, although I am sure she told you that. I just… Well, I want her to know that she has someone here, legally, if she ever has a situation like this.”

“And? That’s not telling me what happened. It’s telling me why. What actually happened?”

“It all happened rather quickly. I was saying about how well Emma is doing at university and he asked if I was seriously considering adopting her, so I told him he was. He didn’t like that. He got mad. Literally pulled the mirror off the wall with such force that it smashed, and he picked up a piece of the glass and stuck it in my side.”, Sherlock explained.

“Oh, Sherlock… Why did you let him? You know so many kinds of physical combat…”, John sighed, running his thumb of the back of Sherlock’s hand.

“I have to, John. He likes to abuse his partners. I deduced it the first time I met him. He has to be in control. I knew I would have to put up with it or be subservient. Have you ever known me to hold my tongue, even in the face of danger?”, Sherlock asked.

“Never. Don’t change, though.”, John smiled. “I can’t believe that bastard, though… I hope Greg is onto it because we have to get rid of him. Now.”, John added, looking annoyed.

Sherlock then looked to the girl, who was curled up at his feet, and smiled. “Is she okay?”, he asked John.

“She’s as okay as she can be, I guess. I mean, she is worried about Lucy, but she bought her a Christmas present whilst we were shopping today, so I guess she is remaining hopeful. I know she rang Mycroft last night, hoping to make some plan to get into Lance’s grasp herself, but it was luckily Greg who answered and talked her out of it. I doubt that would have happened if Mycroft had have answered.”, John replied.

“I worry about her, you know. And I know the whole situation with her mum is getting to her more than she is saying.”, Sherlock said, hoping John would divulge.

“We spoke about it earlier. I think she is finding it difficult because it has been just her and her Mum for years and, suddenly, she has potential 5-year-old twins as new step-siblings and there is a man in her Mum’s life. Kate wouldn’t ever push Em out on purpose, but she does tend to get dragged up in things. Plus, with Emma being so far away from home, it must be difficult.”

“This is her home now, though, John. And I know her Mum misses her and vice versa but Emma thrives in London.”, Sherlock said.

“Yes. I think she does too.”, John smiled, looking over at his cousin. “You know, that even if we don’t get Lance for the sex ring then we can get him for the abuse he done to you. He has to go down for something, Sherlock.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll get him for the sex ring, and we’ll get Lucy back, and then we’ll have a perfect family Christmas. I meant to tell you, as well. Mum has invited us… All four of us, as well as Mycroft and Greg. It should be nice, providing Mycroft isn’t too irritating.”, Sherlock said, with a slight grimace.

“Sounds good to me, although we have hidden Rosie’s Christmas presents, so far, in Emma’s spare room. We’ll have to start moving them over to your Mum and Dad’s as soon as possible.”, John chuckled.

“I’ll get Mycroft to send a car. Or we could always borrow Mrs Hudson’s.”, Sherlock smiled.

“If we do, I am definitely driving.”, John claimed.

Emma then stirred, sitting up warily, yawning and rubbing her eyes.

“Oh, you’re awake.”, Emma smiled at Sherlock.

“I could say the same thing to you. How are you feeling?”, Sherlock asked.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that? You are the one who has been stabbed up by your psychotic fake boyfriend.”, Emma smiled a little.

“I’m okay. Just a little sore.”, Sherlock reassured her, seeing she had been worried about him. “Where is Rosie, by the way? I never asked.”

“Well, she was with Mrs H but Mycroft came and insisted he would take her off Mrs H’s hands for a while and said he would babysit.”, John replied, with a small smirk, waiting to see Sherlock’s reaction.

“Mycroft voluntarily is looking after a small child?! He is getting soft in his old age…”, Sherlock scoffed a little, before chuckling at the thought. “He has got a soft spot for her though. And she seems to like him and well, someone has to, don’t they?”

“Curly! Don’t be so mean about your brother.”, Emma mock-scolded.

“Wait until you see them at Christmas…”, John chuckled.

Emma’s eye widened in shock, realising what that implied. “You mean that I can really stay with you for Christmas?”

“Yeah. Mr and Mrs Holmes have invited us for the holidays.”, John smiled.

“That is so kind of them. Will Greg and Mycie be there too?”, Emma asked.

“Yes. Why?”, Sherlock questioned.

“I have some serious Christmas shopping to get done.”, Emma replied, smiling.

When Emma got home, after the ordeal, it was nearing 9pm but George and Jess were waiting for her, and she filled them in on everything. They were, of course, worried and upset, but understood what needed to be done and agreed to help in any way they could, which included not telling anyone. They were very good about it, and ate a late dinner with her, before promising to see her the next day in Greg’s lecture.


	11. Chapter 11

The next day, Sherlock was released from hospital. Emma received a message from her older cousin that he had got home okay, just as she was entering a lecture taught by Greg. Or, at least, it was supposed to have been taught by Greg. Instead, Emma sat down and was faced with Lance.

“Hi guys… So, Mark is off sick today, and I’ve been asked to cover your lesson for you. So, I know you studied school stories a while back, so I’m going to put Harry Potter on and you’re going to make a list of differences between the first book and the film.”, he said, smiling.

“Er, sorry, whoever you are, but we finished school stories a while ago.”, George spoke up, trying not to show how angry he was at the man, knowing exactly who he was.

“Well, tough.”, Lance replied, simply.

George just sat back, knowing not to argue with the man, after what had happened to Sherlock. George didn’t think he would attack a student so openly, but he didn’t want to risk it. Jess hadn’t even looked up from the floor, where she had fixed her gaze when she realised who the man was. She was white as a sheet and looked like she was going to be sick.

“Sorry, uh, Sir… I don’t feel too well, way I be excused?”, Jess suddenly raising one hand in the air and putting the other to her mouth.

“Of course, chick, you don’t look too good. Emma, go with her, if you will.”, Lance said, which made a cold chill climb down Emma’s spine. Emma didn’t say anything. She simply nodded, and got up, leading Jess out of the room. People looked at her confused, because of Lance knowing her name. And she could hear George trying to protest that he should go with them, but Lance wasn’t having any of it, so George remained seated.

“I’m sorry, Em… Just, being in his presence, when I know what he is doing and has done. How can you do it?”, she asked, as they walked towards the toilets.  
“I don’t know, hun. Are you okay? I can go back in there and get your stuff and you can go home, if you want.”, Emma said.

“No, it’s okay. I can do this, yeah?”, Jess questioned, looking for reassurance.

“Yes. You can. And, when this is all over, and we have Lucy back, we can go out and have a meal, or a night out… Whatever Lu is up to. Even if you just come to mine, and I cook.”, Emma smiled, as they entered the toilets. They both went to the loo, whilst they were there, and Jess had a little cry, whilst Emma hugged her close, before Jess washed her face, and they went back to their lecture. When they got back, Harry had just been told he was a wizard, and George seemed relieved to see them. However, Lance was not in the room.

“Where is he?”, Emma asked George.

“Don’t know… He left not long after you. I was worried he’d gone after you both.”, George replied.

“He said ‘Mark’ was ill, as well, when I know for a fact that he is fine, because he was babysitting Rosie with Mycroft last night. Something is very wrong.”, Emma said. “I need to get in contact with Mycie.”

Emma pulled out her phone and sent a quick text.

Lance teaching Greg’s lesson, claiming he is ill. Something is definitely wrong. Please help – Em x

People will be with you shortly, Emma. You, George and Jess have to get out. Now. MH

“Come on… We have to get out. Mycroft is sending a car.”, Emma said, as she started to put her stuff in her bag. Jess and George followed suit, before just getting up and leaving, much to the confusion of the rest of their class, who were bored and also wanted to leave, but didn’t have the balls to just get up and do so.

As Emma, George and Jess rounded the last corner, before they could go through a big set of double doors into the entrance atrium, Lance was stood there. George immediately stood in front of the two girls, trying to shield them.

“George… It’s okay.”, Emma said, putting a hand on his shoulder, before stepping in front of him.

“Ever the hero, just like your proposed Father, eh?”, Lance smirked, which made Jess feel even more sick. He was psychotic.

“No. Not a hero. Just saving these people, who have done nothing to you, from harm. Let’s face it… You’ve had your eye on me since you step foot in Baker Street, but quickly realised it wouldn’t happen, especially seeing as Sherlock said he wanted to adopt me. So, instead, you took Lucy, who is miles away from her family, so they wouldn’t know for ages and by then, she’d be long gone, am I right?”, Emma asked, trying to keep calm.

“Of course. You have always known. I suppose Sherlock was fake dating me too. And it didn’t go unnoticed that Richard suddenly received a substantial amount of money, so that there would be an open space to teach here. And that, of course, little old DCI Lestrade was under cover. I didn’t, however, think that Sherlock actually had the balls to be involved too. He is ever so delicate.”

“Don’t you see? It was all an act. Sherlock could’ve had you paralysed in seconds, if he’d wanted to. And, speaking of Greg, where is he?”, Emma questioned.  
“Like I’d tell you… I’ll send Sherlock and his little pet on a wild goose chase, I think…”

“Sherlock has only just got out of hospital, thanks to you… He isn’t in any fit state to be chasing around London. Is Lucy with Greg?”, George asked, stepping forwards.

“She is. For now. But she won’t be in, ooo, three hours.”, Lance said, glancing at his watch like a maniac. “She’ll be shipped off to Russia, and then moved on into Asia.”, Lance explained.

“No, she fucking won’t.”, George said, through gritted teeth.

“George… Don’t.”, Emma warned him, calmly. “Let us past, Lance. We want get to Lucy and Greg.”

“I don’t care.”

“There is a car waiting for us. If I am not there, then measures will be taken so I am taken to safety.”, Emma told Lance, as she discretely got her phone out, pressing speed dial.

“I’m not scared of Mycroft Holmes, with all his King’s horses and all his King’s men.”, Lance smirked.

“Really? You should be… But that doesn’t matter, does it? Because if Greg is with Lucy, and they are both where your little sex ring stems from, then that means it can be brought down. Oh and, of course, it helps immensely that you have a tracker on you.”, Emma smirked.

“What?”, Lance scoffed, looking mad.

“The tracker. That Sherlock got onto you… Of course, they will have to determine which map location you went to both when you took Lucy and Greg, but that shouldn’t be too hard. After all, it doesn’t take a genius, and my Dad most definitely is.”

“He isn’t your Dad yet, bitch.”

“No. But he will be. And he will never be your little plaything. Tosser.”

“Couldn’t have said it better myself, Em. Now, go on… Mycroft’s team are going to take you all with them to get Lucy and Greg. I need to speak with my dear boyfriend, here.”, Sherlock said, appearing behind them.

“Well, if it isn’t Sherlock Holmes the detective… No wonder you wouldn’t shag me. Anyone can see you’re whipped for that John Watson. I’m not blind. You were supposed to be my boyfriend, but it was him who you chose to dance with.”, Lance scoffed, as Emma whispered to her friends. They both nodded and let themselves be taken to a car agent that had showed up with Sherlock, so they could go and get Lucy, whilst Emma stayed with Sherlock.

“John isn’t a part of this. Leave him out of this.”, Sherlock almost-shouted.

“You’re a part of it, which makes him a part of it, don’t you see?”, Lance replied. “You come as a package. I should have realised that you were too good to be true…”

“He isn’t here. And he won’t be. He went to get Greg with the others. And, Emma, I told you to go.”, Sherlock said.

“I’m not leaving you on your own.”, Emma told him. Sherlock didn’t reply but was clearly not happy at her still being there.

“So loyal, already… How… Lovely.”, Lance smirked.

“Emma isn’t part of this either. This is about me and you, Lance. Not Lucy. Not Greg. Not John. Not Emma. Me and You.”, Sherlock said.

“Of course, it is, babe… You and me.”, Lance said, walking towards Sherlock, looking like a big cat stalking his prey. Sherlock didn’t move, however. He stood his ground as Lance got closer and closer. Lance was suddenly right in his face and pressing a harsh kiss against Sherlock’s lips. Sherlock just stood there. Not responding. Emma watched on in disgust, not being able to do anything.

After what seemed like an hour, although could only have been a few minutes, Lance pulled away, taking only a small step back, and said, “Come on… You can do better than that… Or should I try it on Emma?”

“Don’t you dare.”, Sherlock spat, pushing Emma behind him protectively, with one arm.

“Then do better.”, Lance said, stepping forwards again.

In a flash, Sherlock had Lance’s balls in one hand and the collar of his shirt in another and said (so quiet it was menacing), “Kiss me again and you’ll regret it.”  
Lance smirked, leaning forwards, but before he could get anywhere near Sherlock’s lips, Sherlock had whipped him around, with his arm up his back, and his face slammed against the wall of the corridor.

“Let go of me…”, Lance struggled.

“Emma, go. Now.”, Sherlock said, calmly, not even bothering to reply to Lance.


	12. Chapter 12

Emma let her feet take her the way she had seen the others go, a few moments earlier. When she got outside, she was shocked to find that Mycroft and Greg were stood there, sharing a quiet moment with each other. Also, John was stood with George and Jess, where Lucy was also stood, wrapped in a bright orange blanket. She looked a bit bruised and tired, but otherwise okay. Emma grinned and ran over.

“Lu! Thank God you’re safe!”, Emma exclaimed, pulling Lucy into a hug, being careful not to hurt her. “Are you okay?”

“I’ve been better, but it is what it is, yeah?”, Lucy smiled.

“Yeah.”, Emma grinned.

“Em, where’s Sherlock?”, John asked, looking around for the detective.

“He’s still inside with Lance.”, Emma replied, before her eyes going wide with realisation. “Shit! He knew that Lucy and Greg were safe… He told me to come and get in the car to get them.”

“The idiot… He’s already hurt. What does he think he’s doing?”, John huffed, before taking off towards the building.

Emma looked to her friends and groaned.

“Go, Em. We’ll be here when you get out.”, George told her, with a small smile, before Emma smiled a little and raced after John. She heard protests from Greg, but ignored him, carrying on.

When Emma caught up with her cousin, she was stood just behind him, but was face to face with Lance, who had Sherlock held to him, with a knife to his throat. Emma just stood stock still, frozen in fear. Blood was seeping from Sherlock’s side, where he had clearly torn his stitches in the scuffle he’d had with Lance. Sherlock had a face of stone, however, not showing any emotion at all. Emma knew he was playing the game, but it scared her seeing him like that.

“Just, let him go, Lance. The building is surrounded. You’re not going to get anywhere, so why make things worse for yourself?”, John asked, calmly.

“See, I knew you were lying when you said he wasn’t here. I said you were a package deal.”, Lance said, right into Sherlock’s ear, but Sherlock didn’t even blink, let alone flinch. The blade was digging into his throat. It was making a red mark, but he wasn’t bleeding from it yet. He knew it was only a matter of time, however, before it pierced his skin.

“Don’t do this… Greg and Lucy have been found and your little sex ring has been infiltrated. You have nothing.”, John carried on, his eyes on Lance, but making sure Sherlock was okay, at the same.

“What do you think, Sherlock? Have they got me?”, Lance asked him, with a sickening smirk.

“It’s over, Lance.”, Sherlock said, quietly, trying not to move.

“I still don’t know…”, Lance sighed, shaking his head.

John then went into the waistband of his jeans, and pulled out his gun, training it on Lance. Emma knew that he would shoot it, if he had to. Sherlock also knew that John would quite happily put a bullet in between Lance’s eyes. Lance, however, seemed to be underestimating him.

“If you don’t let him go, then I will happily use this.”, John told Lance.

“You won’t. Your pretty little Sherlock is too close. You can’t be that good an aim.”

“Care to find out?”, John asked, holding his gun steady.

“Lance, please… Just let Sherlock go. It doesn’t need to come to this.”, Emma pleaded, not particularly wanting to have to watch her cousin blow the man’s brains out.

Lance moved Sherlock directly in front of himself, so that Sherlock was shielding him, and grinned. John groaned, inwardly, knowing that there was high chance that if he shot then he would be shooting Sherlock and not Lance.

“Do it, John.”, Sherlock said.

“I can’t, Sherlock. You’re too close.”, John admitted.

“Just do it, John. Please.”, Sherlock pleaded. His face was blank, but his eyes held so much emotion. Sherlock was scared and trusted John to shoot well and not hit him. Emma looked at Lance, and realised that the elbow, on the arm that was holding the knife to Sherlock’s throat, was sticking out further than the rest of his body. She tapped John on the elbow, but he didn’t even so much as look at her. He was still looking Sherlock directly in the eye. Sherlock realised what Emma was trying to portray, and moved his focus to her, for one second, hoping John would realise what he was trying to tell him. Emma tapped John’s elbow again, and John nodded. He knew he had to shoot Lance’s elbow.

The shot rang out, and Lance fell to the floor, dropping the knife, allowing Sherlock to detain him, until John could get hold of him. Emma moved towards the knife and kicked it out of the way, before running out to get Greg’s attention. She knew they would have to move quickly, what with both Lance and Sherlock bleeding out.

Lance was taken away in one ambulance, with a police escort, whilst Sherlock was taken away in another, with John by his side. Emma stayed where she was, joining her friends to fill them in on what had happened. Jess took Lucy home (as they were in the same flat in halls) and George climbed into the back of one of Mycroft’s cars, insisting that he wanted to stay with Emma, to make sure she was okay, despite her arguments that she was fine. When Greg climbed into the car, after his partner, he saw Emma and George sat together, and simply threw a look to his partner, who nodded and smiled at him, causing Greg to smile too. Greg hadn’t been hurt. He hadn’t even been where he’d been taken for 15 minutes when Mycroft showed up, saving him. Greg’s very own knight and his steed. Greg placed a hand on his partner’s knee, which Mycroft gladly took in his own, letting it rest there, on his knee, as they drove towards the hospital, to check on Sherlock.

When they got to the hospital, Mycroft immediately took on the role of dutiful big brother, getting information and ordering people around. Greg simply sat back and watched on as his partner sorted everything so quickly and efficiently. He actually found it quite hot and promised himself he’d tell Mycroft that, later on, when they were back at home. Just the two of them.

Emma and George sat side by side. Emma kept playing with her fingers, her eyes following every single person who walked past. Sherlock was in surgery and John was talking to Mycroft and Greg about had happened, filling them in.

“You were really brave, you know, Em. Running back in there like that.”, George said to her, quietly.

“Thanks, but I didn’t really do anything.”, Emma replied, smiling shyly.

“You did. You told John where to shoot so Sherlock wouldn’t get hurt.”, George smiled.

“It was nothing, honestly. He would have figured it out himself.”

“He might have. But you still told him. And that is pretty awesome, Emma Parker.”

“Thanks, George. You didn’t have to stay, you know. I have those three.”, Emma said, gesturing to John, Mycroft and Greg.

“I know, but I wanted to stay and make you sure you’re okay.”, George said.

Emma looked over at the three men, who turned their gazes away from her as she looked and knew what they were thinking. And she couldn’t help but think that they were right.

“I appreciate it.”, Emma grinned, braving it and taking George’s hand in hers. When George didn’t pull away and, instead, clung on tight, she knew she could trust the butterflies that were flying around in her stomach.

The three men had watched it happen, all smiling to themselves as the young man and woman took their first steps towards being together.

Sherlock wasn’t in surgery very long, what with it being a case of just stopping the bleed and stitching him back up. When he did get out of surgery, however, George gave Emma a hug, and a kiss on the cheek, promising to check in on her the next day, before letting Greg and Mycroft drop him home (once they had both quickly checked in on Sherlock).

Emma walked into Sherlock’s hospital room, with a sigh. He was in the exact same room he had been in a few days before. John was sat in the chair, beside him, holding onto his hand, as they waited for Sherlock to wake up, in a comfortable silence. John was lost in thought, staring at Sherlock’s resting face and Emma couldn’t blame him. Her mind was reeling with the events of that week. She smiled though, slightly, when she realised Greg had been right. It had all been dealt with before the start of December, meaning they could all move on and have a nice, quiet Christmas.

After around 10 minutes, Sherlock began coming round slowly. Once he was aware enough, Emma kissed Sherlock on the forehead and left the boys to it, leaving the room to find Molly waiting there, with a coffee for her.

Inside Sherlock’s hospital room, there were no words exchanged. Sherlock’s grip on John’s hand tightened, as he came around fully, and John was smiling down at him, as he stroked his Sherlock’s hair softly with the hand that wasn’t clutching his.

“Hi.”, Sherlock said, smiling a little.

“Hello.”, John grinned.

Sherlock shifted a little, groaning as he did, due to still feeling groggy, but he wanted to be closer to John.

“Promise me you’re not going to be so stupid in the future, Sherlock… You knew you were injured.”, John said, one hand still in Sherlock’s, the other still in his hair.

“I thought I would be able to handle it.”, Sherlock replied, smiling sleepily.

“You’re not as young as you used to be. You’re not going to be able to get injured and then be fine to run after criminals the next day anymore.”, John chuckled.

“Yeah, well at least I’m not as old as Mycroft.”, Sherlock grinned, not wanting to laugh, due to only just have come out of surgery. “Where did Emma go?”, he asked.

“Outside. I think she is sat with Molly. She and George are getting close, though.”, John said.

“That’s okay. I like George. I’ll still give him the talk, though.”, Sherlock replied.

“Get in line. It’s me, then Greg, then Mycroft, before you get your turn.”, John grinned.

“Not fair.”, Sherlock complained.

“Well, you were in surgery. Snooze you lose.”

“Mean…”, Sherlock said, his eyes closing, with being so tired. The case had taken it out of him, and having two lots of surgery within three days, even though they were small, were still taking their toll on his body. “Rosie?”, he asked in a whisper.

“Mrs H. You go to sleep now, Sherlock. You need it.”, John told him, smiling at how sleepy he was.

“Mmm.”, Sherlock simply hummed, before falling into a peaceful sleep, his grip on John’s hand not faltering for a single moment, which made John grin from ear to ear. Once he knew Sherlock was definitely asleep, John leant down and placed a soft kiss to Sherlock’s cheek. He then rested his head next to Sherlock’s on the bed, not letting go of his hand, and he, too, fell asleep.

Five minutes later, when Emma and Molly poked their heads into the room, to see how they were doing, they smiled at each other, before each taking their phones out and taking pictures. Molly sent the one she had taken to Greg and Mycroft, whilst Emma sent the one that she had taken to Mrs Hudson, but also put it into the group chat she had with George, Lucy and Jess. All three of them seemed extremely excited at the prospect of John and Sherlock being even closer, as they had agreed with Emma that they needed to get together. Once their photos had been taken, they exited the room again, sitting and making idle chatter whilst they left the men to sleep for a while.


	13. Chapter 13

An hour later, Molly had returned to work, after drinking the coffee she had got for John herself, due to him still being asleep. And Mycroft came back to the hospital, this time with Rosie in tow, who Emma had watched toddle up the corridor, holding tightly onto Mycroft’s hand, looking around warily at her surroundings. When she saw Emma, she smiled but stayed with Mycroft until they were with her, knowing running in hospitals wasn’t good.

“Hey, Bambino…”, Emma smiled, as Rosie climbed up onto her lap. Mycroft sat next to Emma, glancing at the door of his brother’s room.

“How is he?”, Mycroft asked Emma.

“They’re still asleep. Figured it was best to leave them for a while. They clearly both need it.”, Emma replied, as she pulled up a game on her phone, that she had downloaded for Rosie. The young girl took the phone, and played the game silently, knowing her Dad and Papa were asleep, but that her Papa was okay.

“Indeed.”, Mycroft replied simply. “I’d like to thank you, Emma. You did well during this case, especially with getting to Greg about Lucy as quickly as you had.

Looking back at the information from the tracker, Lucy hadn’t even got to their holding point when Greg had made me aware that she was missing.

“Well, thank you, Mycie, but I only did what I had to.”, Emma smiled.

“You know, not even my Mother can get away with shortening my name. There are only three people on the planet that can. Sherlock, of course, from when we were little. It slips out sometimes when he is feeling particularly… Sentimental. Then, of course, my dear Gregory. But the last person, Miss Parker, is you. Now isn’t that curious.”, Mycroft said, smiling a little. Emma found it strange seeing the man be so sentimental with someone who wasn’t his DCI or his little brother.

“Hmm. Yes. Curious.”, Emma smiled.

It was then that the door to Sherlock’s door opened, and John stepped out, looking a little embarrassed but well-rested after his nap.

“Daddy!”, Rosie grinned, letting herself be picked up off Emma’s lap by her Dad.

“Hey, little bee. Have you been good?”, John asked his daughter, hugging her close, placing a kiss on the top of her head.

“I’m always good.”, Rosie replied, her attention back on the game.

“How is he?”, Emma asked her cousin.

“He’s okay. He is just sat up having some water. You can go in, if you want.”, John replied, smiling.

Emma nodded, before standing and making her way into the room. Sherlock was just putting the plastic jug and cup onto his bedside table when she entered.

“Hey, Em.”, Sherlock smiled. “Come here.”, he said, shifting slightly to one side of the bed, and patting the space next to him, for her to join him. Emma hesitated for a moment, not wanting to hurt him, before going and sitting up against the propped-up pillows, next to Sherlock, swinging her legs up onto the bed.

“How are you feeling?”, Emma asked him.

“Could be better but I have certainly been worse. Waking up with John there was certainly nice.”, Sherlock smiled.

“I bet.”, Emma giggled. “I also bet you could get used to doing it every day, huh?”

“One step at a time, Em.”, Sherlock replied. “You did well today, calculating where John should shoot Lance. I mean, he would have got there eventually, but it might have been too late by then.”

“I was just trying not to panic. I thought, for a moment, that I was going to witness Uncle John kill a man and it scared me. I know he would only have killed him if he completely had to, but it was looking more and more likely that it would end up like that.”, Emma explained. “I’ve been thinking, as well… Can I be a Holmes? Like, you know… Change my name, when you adopt me. I am going to ring Mum and talk to her about it tomorrow, but I know she’ll support me.”

“If that is what you want, Em, then that is what will happen.”, Sherlock smiled, holding his new daughter’s hand.

“And, I think I’ll call you Pop. Not Dad. And not Papa, because it’s a bit, I dunno, like what a younger kid would call their Dad. But I think Pop is just fine. I don’t think I’ll ever call Uncle John Dad though. It’d be too weird.”, Emma said.

“Pop it is then.”, Sherlock replied, ignoring her mention of John.

They were then joined by Rosie and John, so Emma jumped off the bed, to allow space for Rosie. Emma pulled a second chair, next to the one John was sat in, and sat next to him. They all sat talking for a while, before Emma and John had to take Rosie home to bed, leaving Sherlock at the hospital overnight.

The next day, Sherlock was released. The Doctors were reluctant at first, but after being spoken to by Mycroft, they let him go home to Baker Street. When he got home, he sat on the sofa and took in the surroundings of his flat. John had come to pick him up alone. Rosie was at nursery and Emma was at her lectures, despite having been told by the university that she could have the rest of the month off, because of the ordeal. That left just him and John in the flat.

“Cup of tea?”, John asked, as he hung his jacket and scarf up on the back of the living room door. With it being so close to December, there was a definite chill in the air, which meant going out without a coat was unthinkable.

“Please.”, Sherlock smiled. “And perhaps some…”

“Ginger nuts. I know.”, John said, cutting him off, with a smile.

As John made the tea, Sherlock moved himself to his armchair, where he could see John pottering around the kitchen. As he watched John open the fridge for the milk, Sherlock realised just how lucky he was. Soon, he was going to have not just one, but two, gorgeous daughters (in a legal sense) and things were definitely looking up with John. Sherlock was excited to see what the next few weeks, in the run up to the Christmas period would bring for the pair. He knew that they would have to wrap up this case, but he hoped that, once John deemed him well enough, that there would be time for a few more cases before Christmas. He even thought about how it would be nice to hold a Christmas gathering, like they had all of those years ago. But, a proper one, this time around.

John placing a cup of tea in his hands, made him snap out of his thoughts, and he nodded to his blogger, in thanks. Sherlock stretched out his socked feet and John obliged, realising what he was doing, by putting his own socked feet over those of his detective. They then sat comfortably, sipping at their tea and simply watching each other. Sherlock realised, as he watched John, just how beautiful the older man was. The way that John let his tongue wipe over his bottom lip, chasing drops of tea, reminded him of that first night, when John had been asking if he was attached. The way he had licked his lip then was the same way he had licked it now. It was strange to Sherlock how tiny things like that stayed the same when the world around them grew and changed.

“So…”, John said, finally breaking the silence.

“So?”, Sherlock asked.

“Well, we do need to talk about whatever this is, but that can wait. I wanted to ask you about Lance.”, John replied.

“What about him?”, Sherlock questioned.

“Why did he start hitting you? I know, now, that when I thought you were sitting funny because you two had been at it like rabbits, that you must have been in pain because he had hit you. So, what happened?”, John asked.

“Not today, John. One day I will tell you. One day I’ll be able to tell you. But not today.”, Sherlock told him. John didn’t even try to push it. He knew Sherlock would tell him in his own time, but he suspected it was something to do with him.

“You brought your gun.”, Sherlock said, after a few moments of silence.

“Of course, I brought my gun.”

“You didn’t need to.”

“You were in potential danger, Sherlock. Of course, I needed to.”

“But I wasn’t in potential trouble. It was Emma who was in trouble.”

“Yes, and I know that you always go off to try and get the bad guy on your own, because you’re a drama queen, so yes you were in potential trouble.”, John smiled.

“Touché, Watson.”, Sherlock grinned.


	14. Chapter 14

The next week went by rather quickly, with the normal routine settling into Baker Street, once again, as December crept upon them. Advent calendars were opened, with a chocolate eaten every morning, presents were purchased, and first dates (for Emma and George, at least) happened. In true wintery fashion, the pair had gone ice skating and then had gone to the Christmas markets, sharing bits of food and drink as they went around the different stalls. George even bought Emma a bracelet she had liked, to commemorate the date. George had then seen Emma to her front door. Whilst they had been out, Sherlock and John had gone downstairs to hang one of the many pieces of mistletoe which had miraculously appeared around their flat to the top of the door frame of Emma’s front door. It had worked though, as George had kissed Emma softly, before going home, like a proper gentleman.

Well, at least the mistletoe has worked for one of us -Pop

Yeah, I guess… Still rude though! – Em x

Emma then laughed when, not a minute later, she received another message.

At least George understood the connotations of mistletoe… Your Pop dives through doorways like they’re about explode because of it – Uncle J x

You are both ridiculous! – Em x

Emma had spoken to her Mum on the phone for nearly four hours, after the whole Lance situation. Her Mum had been overjoyed at the prospect of her daughter being a Holmes, saying it was amazing and kind of Sherlock to think of her daughter in such a way. Kate was also glad that Emma had someone in London. After all, she had Darren and the kids and Emma would always be her little girl, but she was all grown up and Kate was moving on to a new chapter of her life, with two twins to help look after and raise. Emma knew that her Mum would always be there, and they would still have their weekly phone calls and would visit each other when they could, but the future looked exciting for both of them.

Baker Street decided to hold a Christmas get-together, which took place the day before Christmas eve. Greg and Mycroft were there, of course, as well as Molly, Mrs Hudson, George, Jess and Lucy. Emma sat on the sofa of 221B, with George next to her, and her girls squashed next to her on the other side and looked around the room. There was some soft classical Christmas music playing and, as much as Emma liked classical music, the night was boring and lacking in fun. So, Emma hatched a plan. She went over to where Sherlock’s phone was plugged into a speaker and hacked into it. Pulling up Spotify, Emma logged in and pulled up her ‘Beveragino’ playlist that she had made and pressed shuffle. Suddenly, blasting out throughout the room, was ‘A Town Called Malice’ and George grinned, before joining Emma. They began jumping up and down, as Mycroft and Sherlock looked mortified and the other adults in the room merely looked amused by the turn of events.

“Come on, oldies! Time to DANCEEEEEEE!”, Emma yelled, pulling on John’s arm, to try and make him dance. Jess and Lucy joined in, laughing, as did Molly, Greg, John and even Mrs H. Rosie was jumping around too, giggling to herself, but had been anyway (after her Uncle Greg had sneakily let her try his ‘dirty beer’). That left the Holmes brothers.

“Come on, Pop… Mycie. You have to dance. It’s the law.”, Emma said, pulling at each of them to move. They, however, remained unmoved, both wearing the same expression of slight disgust.

“I work with the law every day, Emma, and to dance is most definitely not one of them.”, Mycroft said, pulling his arm out of Emma’s grasp, and brushing down the arm of his suit, where she had been holding.

Getting closer, Emma then leaned in and said quietly, so no one else could hear, “If you do this, your respective other half’s (or near other half’s, Pop) will see you in a different light. Mycie, you will go home and get the bonk of the century. Pop, well, John Watson would be a bloody fool to not snog you senseless under the mistletoe after seeing your moves. And, yes, I have seen you dancing when you think you’re alone.”

Sherlock took a glance at his brother, who looked back, with a look in his eye, which made Sherlock sigh. For a moment, Sherlock composed himself, before jumping straight into the fray, spinning Emma around. Mycroft smiled a little, before wrapping his arms around his partner’s waist from behind, swaying with him.

It was definitely the best Christmas eve party they had held at Baker Street and, by the end of the night, everyone was in good spirits (mainly because of the copious amounts of alcohol they had all consumed. Like Emma had promised, Mycroft was a very satisfied customer that night, once he and Greg had got home, due to Greg finding it hot that Mycroft had let lose. George, Jess and Lucy stayed the night at Emma’s, with Lucy and Jess sharing the bed in the spare room, and Emma letting George share her bed for the first time. They only slept, but it was the next step in their relationship, and they found themselves snuggled up together the morning after.

Sherlock and John, on the other hand, were hopeless. They both went to bed alone, at around half past four in the morning, having both fallen asleep against each other, talking, after a very tired Rosie had been put to bed.


	15. Chapter 15

The next day, it was all systems go. The girls and George left Baker Street, after having exchanged their Christmas presents with each other – promising to not open them until the big day – and then everything was packed into the car, ready to drive to Sussex, where Sherlock’s parents lived. On the way there, Emma was unusually quiet. Sherlock was driving, with John in the front passenger seat and Emma was sat in the back of the car with Rosie. Her head was leant against the glass of the window as she watched the world pass by, without taking any of it in. Sherlock kept glancing at her, using the rear-view mirror. The nerves about meeting his parents were radiating off her. Rosie seemed oblivious, as she sang along to the music that was playing from the radio. Sherlock thought it was infernal noise, but John seemed to like it, as he hummed along too. That is how Sherlock knew Emma was nervous. She always hummed or sang along to music, often harmonising effortlessly, just for fun. But she sat there, silently.

Around half-way there, they stopped for a break, mainly so that Rosie could go to the toilet. Emma was grateful for the stretch of her legs, however, and wordlessly walked into the service station, leaving Sherlock to watch after her, as John got Rosie out of her car seat.

“She’s nervous, isn’t she?”, John asked Sherlock, as he came up next to him, with Rosie on his hip.

“Yes. And I don’t know how to reassure her.”, Sherlock admitted, placing his hand on the small of John’s back so they could get off the carpark and away from the cold. John didn’t complain when Sherlock’s hand stayed there until they got inside. Looking around, Sherlock found Emma in the queue for a coffee and knew that she would be getting one for him and John too, despite them not specifically asking for one. He joined her, whilst John took Rosie to the loo.

“I’ve ordered you a coffee, Uncle John a tea and just for a fruit shoot for Rosie.”, Emma said, simply, not meeting Sherlock’s eyes.

“Look, Em, I know you’re nervous, but there really is nothing to worry about.”, Sherlock replied, putting his arm around Emma’s shoulder, in comfort.

“I know there isn’t a need to be nervous. I’m just being daft…”, Emma said, placing her head on Sherlock’s shoulder.

“They will love you, Em. They love Rosie, and she isn’t biologically my child, so they’ll just be overjoyed at having another granddaughter.”, Sherlock reassured her, adding a small kiss to her forehead before pulling away.

“Yeah.”, Emma smiled, nodding a bit, realising her Pop was right.

It was then that John came wandering over from the toilets, with Rosie’s hand in his. John gave them a smile, which they both returned, and then they all sat whilst they had something to drink. Once the beverages were consumed, and Emma and Sherlock had been to the toilet, it was time to set off again.

“Can I drive?”, Emma asked, on the way back to the car. Sherlock looked at her with a smile.

“I didn’t know you could drive, Em.”, John said.

“I passed when I was 17. Just haven’t needed to drive since coming to London.”, Emma replied. “So… Can I drive?”

“Yeah. Sure.”, Sherlock smiled, handing Emma the keys to the car.

“Thanks, Pop.”, Emma grinned, before unlocking the car with the click of a button. Rosie was buckled in, with John climbing in the back of the car with his young daughter.

Emma sat in the driver’s seat and sighed. “Just how long are your legs? I can’t reach the bloody pedals.”

“Move the seat forwards then.”, Sherlock stated simply, as he typed on his phone.

“Well, no, thanks for that genius. I had never thought of that one.”, Emma muttered sarcastically, as she adjusted the seat so she could reach the pedals and was comfortable whilst driving. John merely grinned at the exchange, unbelievably happy that Emma had become so integrated in their lives in just over two months. To think it had only been that long, to John, was mad. It seemed as though she had just always been there, snapping back when Sherlock was in a mood and being awful.

Emma turned the music up, as she drove, happy to sing along as she followed the sat nav. They were in Sherlock’s car, which was new, due to him deciding, all of a sudden, that he wanted to own one, so they had a proper ‘family car’. Emma knew he had been reading mum’s net, again, when he suddenly made everyone go outside at 7am in the morning, a week into December, to show everyone his new purchase. How he had appeared with it so early in the morning, Emma wasn’t sure, but it was sat there.

As Emma sang along to the radio, navigating the roads with ease, Sherlock tapped away on his phone, clearly solving some case or other.

“Not Greg, surely?”, John asked, leaning on his knees, sitting as far forwards as his seatbelt would let him, his head poking through the gap between the driver’s seat and passenger seat.

“No. Dimmock.”, Sherlock replied.

“I liked him.”, Emma smiled, recalling that one time he had been around to Baker Street, whilst the whole Lance situation was still going on.

“He is stupid.”, Sherlock answered.

“Like so many others.”, Emma grinned. “John was an idiot, once.”

“John is still an idiot. He’s just a useful one.”, Sherlock smiled.

“Charming.”, John said, sarcastically, but still grinning.

“Anyway, case… Interesting?”, Emma asked.

“No. Solved it.”, Sherlock said. “Simple. Open and close.”

“Not for Dimmock, if he needed your advice.”, John said.

“I thought we’d already established that Dimmock is an idiot?”, Sherlock asked.

“Fair point. You’re just getting riled up because you’re going to be cooped up with Mycroft for three nights, with no escape.”, John chuckled.

“I have, until now, managed to convince myself that he’ll be tolerable, due to the presence of his precious Gregory.”, Sherlock mocked a little.

“Oh, come on, Sherlock… At least Greg is someone who you like and who is tolerable.”, Emma said.

“I suppose.”, Sherlock agreed, half-heartedly. When it had first come out that his brother was, in fact, romantically involved with the DCI, it wasn’t, exactly a surprise. The pair of them had been in contact for years, regarding Sherlock. It wasn’t until Sherlock had asked Greg to keep an eye out for his brother that their relationship changed from a professional to a personal one. Mycroft was broken by the things he had seen and endured in Sherrinford. Mycroft Holmes was a strong man, but he hadn’t been subjected to the things his little brother had. He had hated the idea of field work. The one field mission he had been on was mundane and simple. He was trained in different types of combat and could use different types of weapons, but he never had cause to keep up with it, once he proved himself useful behind his desk. That is why Sherrinford had taken its toll on the man.

Greg had helped him through it. He made sure he was with the team who collected him from his sister’s cell. He made sure he didn’t leave him alone that night. He sat in a chair, next to Mycroft’s bed. Mycroft had slept. But only because Greg had managed to slip him a sleeping tablet in his tea. After that, the pair were inseparable, it seemed. Sally Donovan would often leave work, at the end of a shift, to find Greg Lestrade climbing into the back of a sleek, black car, with a grin plastered on his face. She would also find him smiling, whenever he got a text. She knew he was smitten. She just didn’t know that he was smitten with Mycroft Holmes. That is until Greg had turned up to their office Christmas party with an unwilling government official on his arm.

“I don’t do parties, Greg.”, Mycroft said.

“You do. You get all dressed up in your little black-tie number, just to please the prime minister. I’ve seen you. God help if I’d have ever been at one of those parties. I don’t think I’d have been able to keep my hands to myself.”, Greg teased.

“Behave, Gregory. I can and will deny you of any intimacy.”, Mycroft warned.

“I’d like to see you try.”, Greg teased further.

Ultimately, it turned out that Greg had been right. Mycroft couldn’t deny him anything, if he tried. So, he was obliged, as the partner of the boss, to attend the party. He assumed it would be a dull affair. That is until Greg and he seemed to be the centre of attention, which his partner seemed to revel in a little. The congratulations. The ‘I didn’t know you were into men, boss. If I had, I’d have been after you years ago.’ The ‘where did you find this one?’. The ‘Holmes? Not related to our favourite psychopath?’. Mycroft found it all rather amusing and found himself enjoying himself a lot more than he thought he would. He especially enjoyed the way Greg paraded him around, like he was proud of him. It made him feel slightly bemused as to how Greg saw him as he did. However, Greg was the same when it came to him. Greg didn’t understand what the British government saw in him. When he had been asked about his work, at the party, the eldest Holmes had simply replied that he was a part of the Ministry for Transport. If people didn’t believe the lie, they didn’t believe him, but most of the questioning was about how he and Greg had crossed paths.

“So, Sherlock introduced you both?”, Sally asked, running her finger along the rim of her champagne flute.

“Not exactly.”, Greg smiled, looking at Mycroft shyly.

The first time Greg had met Mycroft Holmes had been similar to the story told by his friend, John Watson. Sherlock Holmes had turned up, high as a kite, to a crime scene, had told them how it had been done and then buggered off again, like he hadn’t been there in the first place. The death of an old woman in a sauna from hypothermia. It had everyone baffled. Apart from Sherlock, of course. That night, he had a mysterious summons. It was just a note, with a time on it, saying to be outside the front of the Yard at that time. He obliged, mainly due to being curious. He was asked, like John, to keep an eye on Sherlock, as it were, for money. However, unlike John, Lestrade took the offer. He could do with the help, at that time of his life. He was about to get married. He needed some money to go towards flowers and dresses and caterers and cakes. It seemed like Mycroft knew that too. And, from then on, if Greg ever found Sherlock in a scrape, or he needed bailing out of prison, or he was in danger of relapsing, the pair corresponded with each other, to make sure Sherlock was cared for.


	16. Chapter 16

As the Baker Street clan pulled up outside the Holmes’ residence, Emma let herself take a breath, for a moment, before taking the keys out of the ignition and exiting the car. Rosie had already run into the arms of her grandma, who had come out to meet them, whilst John and Sherlock got the bags out of the boot of the car. In recent years, Sherlock would have left John to do it all. He definitely was changed. Mrs Holmes put Rosie down, after a big cuddle, and looked over to Emma with a huge smile.

“And you must be our Emma.”, Mrs Holmes smiled, pulling Emma into a hug.

“Yeah, er, hi.”, Emma managed to get out.

“Come, dear… I’m grandma to Rosie and shall be to you too.”, Mrs Holmes announced, immediately alleviating Emma’s nerves.

“Sure.”, Emma grinned.

Mrs Holmes then turned, helping Rosie into the house, as Sherlock and John came up behind her with the luggage.

“See. Wasn’t so bad…”, Sherlock said, as he passed Emma.

Emma then followed her Pop and Uncle John into the house, grinning to herself. She met Mr Holmes, who greeted her with as much enthusiasm as his wife had and everything was completely settled.

“Can I help you with anything, Violet?”, John asked Sherlock’s mother, as they entered the kitchen.

“No, no, John… You settle in. Now, due to only having three spare bedrooms, I’m afraid you’ll have to sort out sleeping arrangements. I have set up Myc’s room for him and Greg. Now, I suggest Emma and Rosie in the guest bedroom – as there is more room for the blow-up bed for Rosie – and you two in Sherlock’s room.”, Violet replied.

John barely hesitated, but Sherlock seemed to hold his breath. “Yeah, of course. That’s fine. We’ve shared before for cases and the such.”, John replied. “I’ll, uh, just take our bags upstairs.”

John then disappeared off upstairs with the luggage. Sherlock made sure he had gone and was out of earshot before saying anything.

“Honestly, Mummy… How could you?”, Sherlock asked, plonking himself down at the kitchen table.

“You’re both useless. You’ve been skirting around each other for ages. I know other people have been trying to push you in the right direction. I have a weekly phone call with Martha Hudson. Good job on the mistletoe, Em.”, his mother replied.

“Still, Mummy…”, Sherlock huffed.

“For goodness sake, Pop. You’re useless.”, Emma chuckled, sitting opposite Sherlock, and taking a sip from the cup of tea that Violet had just put in front of her.

Rosie was in the living room, with Siger Holmes, her granddad, admiring the Christmas decorations and telling him about the past few months.

“Mum, I need to talk to you. About the last case we were on… It was, well, you just need to know some things. But I would prefer to go into it when Mycroft and Greg get here, so they can keep an eye on Rosie. I want to tell you and Dad at the same time.”, Sherlock announced to his mother, softly.

Violet’s face flickered with worry, for a moment, before it settled back to her usual soft smile. “Of course, dear.”, she replied.

“Speaking of Mycie and Greg… When are they due?”, Emma asked.

“They should be here soon. Mycroft said they were about half an hour away not long before you got here.”, Violet replied. Emma simply nodded in reply, taking another sip of her tea. By that time, John was coming back into the kitchen, and took a seat next to Sherlock. It didn’t go unnoticed by either of the women in the room how John scooted his chair closer to Sherlock’s as he sat down, wrapping his arm around the back of Sherlock’s chair.

“Did you hear back off Dimmock, Pop?”, Emma asked her new father.

“I haven’t yet, no. He’s either making the arrest or he is trying to track down the evidence I mentioned but I haven’t heard a peep.”, Sherlock replied, happy that Emma always took such an interest in his work. She always wanted to be involved in some way too, whether that was in an admin capacity, or actually going to the Yard with him and John.

“He really is an idiot.”, Emma commented.

“Rosie seems happy.”, John said.

“You know she loves Dad… They could talk for hours and never get bored of each other.”, Sherlock chuckled, settling back further into his chair so John’s arm was pressed against his back.

At that moment, there was a commotion at the front door, indicating the arrival of Mycroft and Greg.

“Mother?”, Mycroft asked.

“Kitchen, Mycroft.”, his mother replied, putting the kettle on immediately, ready to make her son and his partner a hot drink.

“Are we to be sleeping in my old room?”, Mycroft asked.

“As usual, yes.”, Violet replied. Mycroft took Greg’s bag from him, placed a quick kiss to his cheek, and then made his way upstairs.

“Greg…”, Violet smiled, holding out her arms.

“Violet, a pleasure, as always.”, Greg grinned, happily giving the woman a hug.

“How have you been?”, Violet asked. “My eldest not being too horrid, I hope.”

“Never to me.”, Greg smiled, his whole being glowing with admiration for his partner.

“Please. I want to vomit…”, Sherlock commented, rolling his eyes.

“I’ll get a bucket.”, Emma told him, sarcastically, with a smile, which made the others in the room chuckle, but caused Sherlock to frown.

Violet then left the room, to speak to her husband and granddaughter and Emma grinned in Greg’s direction.

“Surprised you can walk today, Greg…”, Emma joked.

“Emma!”, John scolded her a little.

“Honestly, John, it’s fine.”, Greg chuckled. “I was very… Satisfied, to say the least.”

“I bet… Knew you’d not be able to hold back once you saw him dancing.”, Emma grinned.

“You minx.”, Greg laughed, as he took the seat next to her.

“Greg… Will you be able to watch Rosie this afternoon? I wanted to fill Mum and Dad in about Lance.”, Sherlock asked, quite tentatively.

“Yeah, sure… We can take her down to the river. It’ll be nice down there. We’ll wrap her up.”, Greg smiled.

“Thanks, Greg.”, Sherlock smiled in reply.

“Anytime. Did Dimmock get in touch about that case? He asked for your new number yesterday. Hope you don’t mind that I gave it to him.”, Greg said.

“Not at all. Open and shut. Even by Dimmock’s standards it was dull. At least you have some competence.”

“Thank you.”, Greg smiled, rolling his eyes a little, knowing that it was the closest to a compliment that he was going to get from his partner’s brother. “Are you coming on the walk, Em? You’d be welcome to.”, he added.

“Yeah, sure. Why not? Some fresh country air might do me some good.”, Emma grinned.

Emma couldn’t wait until Christmas day… She had got everyone presents which she hoped they would love. She had overspent a little but didn’t care. She had sent presents to Manchester for her Mum and her new little family and then had gone all out on spending on her new little family. She was excited to see how their little family unit spent the holidays and couldn’t wait to share in that.

A lunch of sandwiches was eaten, with everyone gathering in the kitchen to eat. Conversation was thrown around, with the Holmes brothers throwing snide remarks at each other, as usual, however, everyone could tell it was in jest. Then Greg, Mycroft and Emma prepared themselves and Rosie to venture out into the cold for a walk. Just before they left, Sherlock pulled Emma to one side, and wrapped his scarf around her neck, for that extra bit of warmth. The quartet then set off out, with Emma holding Rosie’s gloved hand, walking on ahead of the two men, who held onto each other via their waists, pulling each other close (sharing their body heat in the bite of winter).

Whilst away on their walk, the tension in the little cottage grew a little. For Sherlock to be acting in the way he was about a case, Violet knew that it meant her son had been hurt in some way or other.

“William… What happened?”, Violet asked, as they sat around the kitchen table, with her husband at her side and John’s at her sons. Where everyone belonged.

“I was undercover… And I had to pretend to be in a relationship with a man who was involved in a sex ring. He was targeting and taking people from Emma’s university. I purposely met him at an AA meeting, whilst Greg went undercover in the university. He was an abusive man. And I suffered injuries. He burned me with cigarettes, smacked me until I bled, and he stabbed me with the glass of a broken mirror…”, Sherlock explained to his parents, clinging onto John’s hand as he spoke. “There is also something else, though, which I have not told anyone yet.”

“Sherlock?”, John asked, with massive concern.

“He, erm… He didn’t just physically abuse me by hitting me.”, Sherlock almost whispered.

“You mean, he…?”, John questioned.

“Not in the way you think, John. But, yes. He often forced himself on me… The last time he, er, well, he made me penetrate him without protection.”, Sherlock continued.

“But that’s so dangerous… He could have anything…”, Violet said, tears welling in her eyes. Her husband just sat next to her, silent and listening.

“He did, Mum.”

“No, he… Not HIV?”, John asked, looking shocked and like he was going to be sick.

“No. Not that serious. But I have been treated for chlamydia.”, Sherlock admitted. “I’m clear now, though. I just thought you should know. Just, please don’t tell Greg or the girls. And especially don’t tell Mycroft.”, Sherlock pleaded.

“Okay. We won’t. Are you definitely clear now, though? You’ve been tested for everything since your treatment?”, John asked, the Doctor in him wanting to make sure that Sherlock really was okay.

“Yes. All clear.”, Sherlock affirmed.

Violet looked between the two men, who were sat opposite her, and nudged Siger. The man didn’t need to be told. He simply stood and followed his wife out of the kitchen, leaving the two men to talk in private.

“So, you have been holding back because that bastard gave you an STD and you didn’t want to give it to me?”, John asked, braving the topic of their situation.

“Yes… I wanted to make sure that I didn’t hurt or infect you, in any way. Plus, I was worried you didn’t feel the same.”, Sherlock admitted.

“Of course, I feel the same.”, John smiled, turning in towards Sherlock, keeping a hold of his hand, tightly.

“Well, I know that now. But I didn’t.”, Sherlock replied.

“When did you figure it out?”, John asked.

“Honestly? That first time I came back to Baker Street with Lance. And Emma may or may not have hinted a few things.”, Sherlock grinned.

“That was one of the hardest things I’ve had to do, Sherlock… I hope you realise that. All of those girlfriends you chased away, though. You have loved me since we met. Am I right?”, John questioned.

“You came into my life like a whirlwind, shooting a man after we’d barely known each other 48 hours, to save my life.”, Sherlock said.

“So, can I finally kiss you now, please?”, John asked, leaning forwards slightly, placing his hand against Sherlock’s cheek, his thumb slowly caressing his cheek bone.

“I suppose.”, Sherlock smirked.

John took Sherlock’s lips so softly; it was almost non-existent. Like a whisper. Sherlock, however, took matters into his own hands, pulling John’s face closer to him, and kissing him harder. John smiled into the kiss, responding to Sherlock’s movements like he had been doing it for a long time. It was like a well-executed choreographed dance between them.

“You don’t understand how long I have wanted to do that…”, John said, pulling away slightly, resting his forehead against Sherlock’s.

“I think I do.”, Sherlock replied, before taking John’s lips with his own again.

They don’t know how much time passed, as they sat in the kitchen of Sherlock’s parents, finally letting themselves have what they had wanted for so long. However, the four that had gone out for the walk came back, and Emma made her way straight to the kitchen, to give her Pop his scarf back. When she got to the door, she stopped in her tracks. She then grinned massively, before backing away quietly and going into the living room.

“About time…”, Emma announced, causing Greg’s head to whip around, in shock.

“You mean they are finally…?”, Greg asked.

“Yep. If they carry on like that, though, they are going to end up with bruised lips.”, Emma said, sitting down.

Rosie had not been paying attention to the conversation, due to Mycroft helping her out of her winter coat, hat, scarf, gloves and wellies. Once the young girl was free, she then ran towards the kitchen. Before anyone could stop her, Rosie was stood in the doorway of the kitchen, smiling.

“Daddy! Papa! Finally!”, she shouted, causing John and Sherlock to jump away from each other, their cheeks tinted red out of embarrassment. They couldn’t help but smile, however. Rosie then climbed up onto Sherlock’s knee, telling them about her walk, and how excited she was that Father Christmas was coming.

The rest of the afternoon was spent with the family sat around the television, watching The Grinch. A film which neither of the Holmes brothers had ever seen and did not seem to want to watch. That is until John and Greg sat them both down on their respective sofas, threatening different things if they didn’t sit and watch the film silently.

“I’m glad my boys have you two… They actually do what you say.”, Siger smiled.

“We do what Mummy says Father. You do realise that you’re the only exception in this room.”, Mycroft joked with his Father.

“I know… A cross I have to bear. I am the idiot amongst geniuses.”, Siger chuckled.

“Well, it wasn’t me who said it, Father.”, Sherlock smiled, chuckling a little.

“Shhhh, Pop. I love this film.”, Emma urged.

“You like all sorts of rubbish, Em. It shouldn’t surprise me that you like this rubbish too.”, Sherlock replied, rolling his eyes.

“Papa… No.”, Rosie said, simply, causing the adults to chuckle a little, before they all watched the film in peace.

About half-way through, Emma slumped into a quiet nap. She was sat next to Sherlock, on the sofa, and fell asleep, her head falling onto his shoulder. John was sat on the other side of Sherlock, his hand entwinned in Sherlock’s and resting on the detective’s knee. Sherlock smiled down at Emma, as she napped. She was tired after the party of the night before, and because she had worked herself up with worry about meeting his parents. Rosie was not allowed a nap. John knew that she was going to be over-excited and unlikely to sleep. He didn’t want to add to that by letting her have a nap during the day. Luckily, Rosie had not shown any signs of being tired and happily sat and watched the film, sat comfortably on Greg’s lap. Mycroft was sat with his arm around Greg’s waist, and did not seem to mind the presence of the toddler.

A dinner of curry was consumed – a tradition of the Holmes’ – and then Rosie was put to bed, albeit reluctantly. Once Rosie was in bed, the adults sat in the living room, each with a glass of their preferred tipple, before they began moving the presents from the shed to in front of the tree. However, to do that, Rosie had to be asleep first. Sherlock had set up her baby monitor, despite her being too old for it, so that they could check she was asleep without disturbing her. At around half past 12, so into Christmas day, Rosie was finally asleep, leaving the adults to place everyone’s presents under the tree, before going to bed themselves.


	17. Chapter 17

Emma was woken, the next morning, at half past five, by Rosie jumping up and down on the edge of Emma’s bed.

“Emma! Wake up! Wake up! It’s Christmas and I think Father Christmas has been!”, the little girl grinned, still jumping excitedly.

“Well, bambino… You haven’t quite outdone my record, but you’ve still come close. Half past five… I don’t think Daddy or Papa will appreciate being woken up so early… I am going to say we have to wait at least another hour and a half before we go and see what Father Christmas has left for us. So, how about we watch a film on my laptop. You can sit on the big bed with me.”, Emma said, pulling her laptop out her suitcase, and pulling Rosie closer to her, so they could rest against the headboard.

“But I want to see, Emma… Please…”, Rosie asked.

“Not yet, Rosie… Soon. Now, what film shall we watch? How about Arthur Christmas?”, Emma questioned.

“Okay.”, Rosie said, in a slight huff.

Two hours later, Sherlock pushed the door to the girl’s shared bedroom open, as quietly as he could. There he was faced with the two of them asleep, with Rosie curled up into Emma’s side. The film was just ending, on Emma’s laptop, which was resting on the pillow that wasn’t in use, on the double bed. Sherlock realised that Rosie must have woken early, only for Emma to not let her disturb the rest of the house and smiled.

“Are they okay?”, John half-whispered, coming up behind Sherlock.

“See for yourself…”, Sherlock smiled in reply, stepping aside so that John could see the situation.

John grinned and took a photo quickly, before Emma began to stir, as though she knew someone was watching her.

“What time?”, Sherlock asked, quietly, once Emma was awake.

“Half past five.”, Emma replied, grimacing a little.

“Well, thanks for getting her to go back to sleep. The last thing we need today is for her to become overtired.”, John said.

“No problem.”, Emma smiled, as Rosie, too, began to stir.

Once the little girl was awake, it was all systems go. Greg and Mycroft were already up, and were stood in the kitchen, each with a coffee in hand. Siger was humming happily to himself, as he made some breakfast for everyone, and his wife was fussing over preparations for a Christmas dinner of turkey, with all the trimmings.

John began pouring more coffee into three mugs, as Sherlock came up behind him, wrapping his arms around John’s waist and burying his face in his partner’s neck. Emma couldn’t stop grinning. She had already messaged George, to wish him a ‘Merry Christmas’ and to tell him of the developments between her Pop and Uncle John, to which George was so excited about. Mycroft even smiled a little at the progression of his brother’s relationship. He had, after all been waiting for it for a very long time. Longer than others, perhaps. On his first meeting with John, Mycroft had predicted it and the years had gone by between then and now, but every second was worth it. Every single second.

“What time did Rosie wake you up this morning, Em?”, Greg asked.

“Half 5.”, Emma replied, huffing a little bit.

“Ouch…”, Greg chuckled.

Rosie was drinking a glass of milk, sat on Mycroft’s knee, with a frown pulling at her eyebrows. She had wanted to charge into the living room immediately but had been stopped by Sherlock and ushered into the kitchen, being told that breakfast had to happen first. As much as Mycroft didn’t usually do well with human interaction, he was a wonder, when it came to his youngest niece. Rosie loved him to pieces, and Emma could tell that, secretly, Mycroft loved her too.

Once the family had eaten a substantial breakfast and everyone was ready, Rosie was let loose into the living room, where mounds of presents awaited her. She was spoiled rotten. Mycroft and Greg bought her a kitchen set, accompanied with pots, pans, plastic food, cutlery and plates. She adored it and Emma knew it would be set up in her bedroom as soon as they got home. Gran and Grandad Holmes bought Rosie new clothes, ranging from dresses to t-shirts to shoes that flashed as she jumped around. Sherlock and John got her all sorts. And Emma got the little girl a doll of Moana and a doll of Belle, which Rosie adored.

Then it came to Emma handing out the gifts she had bought for everyone. For Gran, she had bought a new pair of gardening gloves and a cookbook. For Grandad, she bought the complete boxset of James Bond films – a recommendation from her Pop. For Mycroft and Greg, she got a collective present of a canvas of a picture of them two, her and Rosie, which had been taken a few weeks before on a trip to the park, whilst Sherlock and John were on a private case. Mycroft loved it and told Greg it would be going in his office at Whitehall, whether he liked it or not. Emma could just imagine it next to his picture of the Queen. For John, she bought two jumpers, a bottle of his favourite whiskey, and a keyring of a picture of him, Sherlock, Rosie and herself. John really liked them and nearly got a tear in his eye when he saw them. For Sherlock, Emma got him the same keyring she had got John, a new magnifying glass (due to him have smashed his favourite one) and a new scarf. Sherlock loved them. She hoped that Mrs Hudson and Molly liked their spa day that she had got for the three of them too (a treat for her as well as them).  
Emma received so many lovely presents too. From her new grandparents, she got a book of the Complete works of Shakespeare, which she loved. From Mycroft and Greg, she received tickets to Hamilton, Waitress and Les Miserables in the West End (which she was beyond grateful for because she had always wanted to watch a West End show and couldn’t afford it). From John, Sherlock and Rosie (as a collective) she got a ticket to a family holiday they had planned for the four of them, to Disneyland in Paris. She couldn’t wait for that, either. She also got the addition of a Pandora ring, to commemorate her adoption, from Sherlock. From her Mum and Darren, she got three new charms for her Pandora bracelet and some money. She was extremely happy, to say the least. Jess and Lucy had bought her some books she had wanted, and George got her a pair of earrings and tickets to ‘Much Ado About Nothing’ – her favourite Shakespeare play – at the Globe in London. She couldn’t wait.

Everyone else opened their presents, with cheer and excitement being thrown around the room. The joy in the room, after the whole Lance situation, was much needed and appreciated. The wrapping paper was then collected and recycled and then preparations began on the Christmas dinner. In the kitchen, Violet and Greg came into their own, with Greg surprising everyone with his culinary skills. Whilst the food was cooking, a film was put on the TV, but no one really watched it. Rosie was playing with a number of toys, whilst Sherlock and John fought with boxes and batteries for others, stopping occasionally to touch each other or place a small kiss to the other man’s lips. Mycroft contented himself by engaging in conversation with his Father, only stopping when Rosie ran over to the pair to show them something or tell them something, before running away again. Emma went where she was needed, either helping in the kitchen, or playing with Rosie, or joining in the conversation with her new Granddad and Uncle.

Christmas dinner was eaten, with everyone around the table (even Sherlock) eating so much that they couldn’t move. They ate dinner and dessert and drank too much wine, and then Mycroft and Sherlock snuck out of the front of the house (to smoke) whilst John and Siger took on the task of washing up. The Holmes brothers thought they were being subtle about their nicotine fix but convinced no one. However, no one commented on it either, with it having become a kind of truce and tradition between the brothers. Emma had been told about the third Holmes sibling. She had caused trouble, and Sherlock and Mycroft still visited her, from time to time, but she otherwise went unmentioned. It had become apparent that she was beyond help.

Emma drank, perhaps, too much wine, but it was Christmas and everyone else was drinking. At one point, she was drinking a glass of wine that Mycroft was trying to tell her about. He was trying to explain how it was better than the wine they had been drinking with Christmas dinner, and she didn’t take in a word, due to the alcohol seeping through her system.

In the evening, they all sat around the television to watch the specials of television programmes, with Emma, Greg, John and Siger being particularly excited about Doctor Who. Emma had always loved Doctor Who and the Christmas specials were tradition. Emma fell asleep, at around half 9, in the chair. Rosie was put to bed, and Siger and Violet retired for the night, leaving the Holmes brothers and their other half’s. With John and Greg being such good friends anyway, there was never an awkward moment, in the room. John felt at rest, finally. When he had been with Mary, he loved her unconditionally, but there was always the question of ‘What If?’ in the back of his head. He loved Sherlock. Everyone knew it. Yet, he denied it until he was blue in his face. Looking back on it, he hated himself for it. Sherlock must’ve thought he was awful. Sherlock could never have thought that of John Watson, though. Even when he had to sit back and watch John get married and have a child, Sherlock was never spiteful or jealous. He was simply glad that John was happy. He had never needed feelings before, so he convinced himself he didn’t need them then either. He had set aside his happiness to see John Watson happy. It was something Mycroft admired his little brother for. He would never actually admit that to him, of course. Although, the brothers were getting better at discussing their feelings with each other. They were, however, still miles off what would be considered as ‘normal’. But, then again, when had the Holmes brothers ever been normal?

“To think that only a few Christmases ago, we were here, and Mycroft was snoozing soundly at the kitchen table because you drugged him.”, John smiled.

“Ah, yes… The perfectly family Christmas. You always do keep us on our toes, don’t you, Sherlock?”, Mycroft smiled in reply, taking a sip of his drink.

“I try my best.”, Sherlock replied.

“That’s all we can ask.”, Greg chuckled, as though he was speaking to a child.

Emma was still asleep, curled up on the armchair. Mycroft was watching the rise and fall as she breathed and looked to Greg, who looked him in the eye and knew immediately what he was thinking.

“Yes.”, Greg said.

“I’m sorry, what?”, John asked, looking confused.

“Are you sure? I mean, it’s a big step.”, Mycroft asked his partner.

“I don’t care, Myc. We have a big enough house. We have enough money. Let’s do it.”, Greg replied, insistent.

“I still don’t understand.”, John said.

“I believe they’re going to look into having a child, John.”, Sherlock smiled.

“That’s amazing!”, John grinned.

Mycroft was so overwhelmed that he brought Greg’s lips to his own, and let the tears fall. Whereas, in the past, Sherlock would have given any opportunity to be able to humiliate his brother in a time like that, but he found he couldn’t bring himself to. He found the whole ordeal quite sweet. Not that he would ever admit that to anyone.


	18. Chapter 18

The next morning, after a family breakfast, Sherlock and John took themselves off on a walk, just the two of them. Emma figured they’d need the time alone, after their little revelation, and no one questioned it. They simply smiled as John wrapped Sherlock’s scarf around his neck for him, before pulling him down by the coat collar for a chaste kiss, before they set off out, into the cold. Rosie had roped Greg and Mycroft into a game of some sort, and Mr and Mrs Holmes joined in too, after tidying away the breakfast dishes.

Emma, however, decided to go on a walk of her own. Instead of going through the front door, she headed of out towards the back property line, enjoying the moment she had to herself. She hadn’t been walking for long when she came across what looked like, from the outside, a converted barn. Knowing that she was still on Holmes land, she entered it. Inside, she found something that she was not expecting, at all. A dance studio. There was a ballet barre, a sprung floor and one wall was covered in mirrors. In the corner, there was a speaker system, and Emma grinned widely. She hadn’t danced since moving to London, but, before that, had danced all of her life. She had always had dance lessons and had taken part in many exams and competitions and shows. Within seconds, she was decided. She was going to take a few minutes to run some old routines and let lose.

She took her coat, scarf and gloves off, placing them in a pile on the floor, near the door, next to her discarded shoes. When she had turned the lights on, the heating seemed to come on with them, so she knew she wouldn’t get too cold. Besides, she knew that she would be sweating, soon enough, due to not having danced in a while. She pulled her phone out, and pulled up her Spotify, before attaching it to the speaker system and picking out a song.

“A nice, slow contemporary dance, methinks.”, Emma said out loud, before pick ‘Take Me To Church’ by Hozier.

The music started playing, as Emma made her way to the middle of the dance floor. She stood for a moment, letting the music wash over her, before she started moving. She was so graceful as she pointed and prepped for a pirouette. Despite having been inactive for so long, she still had it. The music swelled into the chorus and she began the choreography she remembered with a scissor leap. She looked amazing as she leapt and let the music guide her movements. She let the stress of the previous few months, what with having to deal with Jack and then the whole situation with Lance, pour into every movement. Due to having her eyes closed, she didn’t see that Sherlock and John had entered the room, smiling, as they watched her. The music came to an end, and John and Sherlock began clapping, which brought Emma back to reality.

“Sorry… I couldn’t resist.”, Emma smiled, suddenly getting a bit shy.

“Emma… That was beautiful.”, John grinned.

“It was. Truly. Although, you could do with watching your turn out on your turns. Your supporting leg won’t struggle as much.”, Sherlock added, but was smiling.

“How come you know so much about it?”, Emma questioned.

“Whose studio do you think this is? I haven’t used it in a while, but I am quite a good dancer, if I do say so myself.”, Sherlock replied, smiling.

“So, you can dance… Well, Pop, you kept that one quiet. What kind of dance can you do?”, Emma asked.

“Ballroom. A bit of latin. Ballet. Contemporary. Tap…”, Sherlock informed her.

“I do all those too. As well as street and commercial. And jazz. And, of course, musical theatre. Although, I don’t think I could picture you doing street or commercial.”, Emma chuckled.

“Quite.”, Sherlock agreed. “I take it you know how to waltz properly, then?”, Sherlock added, taking his coat and scarf off, and placing them next to Emma’s.

“I can. Did you have a song in mind?”, Emma asked.

“You choose.”, Sherlock said.

Emma picked ‘Can’t Help Falling In Love’ by Elvis Presley. Emma’s hold was corrected slightly, which made John smile. Sherlock was a sucker for perfection, after all. But then, they began to waltz around the space seamlessly. John took out his phone, and began recording, as he watched them dance. It truly was beautiful.

“Come on, Uncle John. Your turn.”, Emma insisted, once they had finished dancing.

“No, no… I am not embarrassing myself after that!”, John chuckled.

“You won’t embarrass yourself. Just have some fun. I am going to go back to the house. I’m parched. I’ll leave my phone for the music.”, Emma said, before picking up her things and leaving them to it.

John sighed but took his coat of anyway and went to join Sherlock on the dance floor.

“Hello.”, Sherlock smiled, as he took John into his arms.

“Hi.”, John grinned, pulling Sherlock as close as he could.

“I’m glad we can do this without certain people glaring.”, Sherlock said.

“Me too. I do really love you, you know. I know that I’ve said it already, but we wasted so much time. I just want this to work.”, John smiled, as they swayed together.

“I love you too, John. And this will work. Think about it… The stuff we have got through, just when we were friends… We have been through so many bad things and have come out of the other side. I mean, it will be difficult because sometimes I’ll be my delightful, grumpy self and you’ll probably want to put your fist through my face, but we’ll get through it. Together. We always have. And I’d like to think we always will.”, Sherlock replied. A few happy tears rolled down John’s cheeks, as Sherlock leant down and took John’s lips with his, the taste of salt mixing with the taste that Sherlock could only describe as, distinctly, John.

They stayed there for a while, in a world of their own, with Sherlock twirling John around the dance floor, making them both giggle when Sherlock dipped John backwards, stealing a kiss, before pulling John up and twirling him around again. It had been a long time coming, but it was perfect.

Everything, finally, after so many years of not being, was right. Greg and Mycroft had each other and were starting to plan for a family and lifetime together. Mr and Mrs Holmes were okay, knowing their daughter was alive, but beyond help. And they were beyond glad that their boys, who they had worried about greatly, had found someone each, to love and cherish. Little Rosie never asked about her Mother. She knew her Mother was dead, but she wasn’t sad because of it. She had her Dad and Papa, after all. And that nasty man, who had threatened to take her Papa away, was out of the picture, fully and completely. Emma had George, and the girls, and was happy that her Mum had found someone new, so she knew her Mum wasn’t on her own. She had Sherlock, who had adopted her, so she had someone in London, with her. And she was beyond happy for her Pop and Uncle John. After all they had been through together, they deserved the world. She was glad that she had bumped into John, those months before. It had, technically, only been two months, but everything was so much better. And Emma knew that a New Era had come to Baker Street. One that she hoped would stay forever.


	19. Epilogue

As Sherlock sat down in the auditorium, next to his husband, he got more and more nervous. Emma was in her first professional production out of drama school and, even though Sherlock knew she was prepared, he felt sick. He didn’t want her to fail. At all. In his row, were his parents; his brother and brother in law, with his nephew, Eddie (aged 7); Molly and her husband, Jack; Rosie, who had just turned 10, and, of course, his John. He was upset that Mrs H was no longer around to see Emma finally get to where she wanted to be, but he knew she would have been so proud. He also knew that, somewhere else in the auditorium, were Kate (Emma’s Mum) and Darren (her step-dad), who were sat with his son in law, George, and their friends, Lucy and Katie. He knew Emma must be bricking it back-stage. Not only was it her opening night, but everyone was in to see her, too, which can’t have made her any less nervous.

“Calm down, love… She’ll be amazing, as always.”, John told him, taking his hand and rubbing reassuring circles on the back of his hand.

“I know. I am just so nervous for her. This is the first step, John. The first step in the rest of her life. I know she won’t mess up, but I’m terrified that, if she does, then it’ll be game over before she even begins.”, Sherlock admitted to his husband.

“She is amazing, Pa. Don’t worry. She said you’d act like this.”, Rosie smiled at her Father.

Sherlock did his best to smile in return but couldn’t quite manage it as he bit down another wave of nausea.

Down the row, Greg was reading parts of the programme with Eddie, whilst Mycroft engaged in a conversation with his parents, who were getting on in years, but were adamant that they weren’t going to miss their granddaughter’s West End debut.

Just then, Sherlock’s phone buzzed in his pocket.

Have just had the five-minute call before places. Stop panicking. I am fine. I love you, Pop. See you afterwards – Em xxx

Sherlock suddenly felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders, knowing Emma was fine. He relaxed then, until an announcement came over the speakers.  
“DUE TO ILLNESS, THE ROLE OF JANIS WILL BE, TONIGHT, PLAYED BY FIRST COVER, EMMA HOLMES.”

“What? Why didn’t she tell me… John. That’s the big role that she covers…”, Sherlock blurted out.

“She’s got this. You know she has. Breathe.”, John told him, just as the lights in the house went down and the band went up. Emma was the first person to appear on stage. Sherlock watched her, with a lump in his throat, as she addressed the audience, for the prologue.

She was amazing, hitting the right notes amazingly, and he knew she would be able to relax once she had got that first part out of the way. He knew the story line was not something he would typically go for, at all, with it being based off the chick flick, Mean Girls, but he enjoyed it all the same, and actually found parts of it quite amusing. He relaxed and watched on with pride, grinning whenever Emma opened her mouth. The role she was covering was big, vocally, but Sherlock didn’t doubt her for one moment, and he knew she had the support of the cast to get her through it. The issue was, with it being opening night, there were press in, and Sherlock knew how brutal they could be. He just hoped that they wouldn’t be harsh on her.

The next day, when the reviews were published, Emma’s stand-in role was mentioned, with all of them saying how well she did, considering how last minute it had been. And she was loved by everyone. She even ended up taking over the role permanently, as the person who had been taken ill ended up being massively ill and unable to return to the show.

Sherlock couldn’t be prouder of Emma, and Rosie loved telling everyone at school that her big, adopted sister was a West End star. Even Mycroft and Greg, who didn’t particularly enjoy musicals of any kind, went to see Emma more than once. Sherlock and John ended up being dragged back to the show, too, with Rosie and her school friends in tow.

Sherlock Holmes retired from sleuthing, instead spending his time with his husband and children, when he could. He even baby sat his nephew, often, when Greg and Mycroft were both working. John had retired, too, and the pair enjoyed spending their later years of life together. They weren’t exactly spring chickens anymore, who could throw themselves into danger every day. But they didn’t mind, as long as they were together.

George and Emma had moved out of Baker Street but were there at least twice a week. George was an English teacher in a local high school, and managed to get a school trip organised, for the higher years in the school, to go and see a Wednesday matinee of the show, showing his pride for his wife.

Molly Hooper carried on her work at Bart’s and announced to everyone that she was expecting her first child, a month into Emma’s West End run. She was so happy with her husband, Jack. They both loved each other unconditionally and it was beautiful to witness.

The Holmes parents were very much getting on in age, but still made the trip to London, once a month, to see their granddaughter in action.

Emma did the job she loved and surrounded herself with her loved ones, making sure to thank whatever higher being was out there, every single day, that she had bumped into John Watson that day, at the park. That day, her life changed. And it definitely changed for the best.


End file.
